


Negotiations

by Heizpilz



Series: The Affiliation Trilogy [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Last part of the trilogy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heizpilz/pseuds/Heizpilz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has new responsibilities and is finally taking measures to move on, but with Stiles suddenly around again that seems unlikely. And Derek is no longer sure what he’s even trying to accomplish.<br/>Or: the one where Derek realizes that being an alpha isn’t enough if you’re not in charge of your own life.</p><p>Set four years after <i>Blessed</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**1.**

 

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER  _

General impression:

The subject is a 27 y. old male alpha. He is approx 6’ tall, but seems taller, well-built with obvious superior upper body strength and well-developed muscles. He has black hair, cut short, styled with product, and is clean-shaven. His clothes: clean black jeans (good quality), a green button-down shirt and clean black ankle boots. Only the top button of his shirt is undone. Not dressing to attract but rather to show respect. His attire is at odds with the ill-fitting leather jacket he’s wearing throughout the session. Very attractive but does not use this to his advantage when meeting for the first time ( _not aware? not interested?_ ).

 

Known background:

The subject’s name is Derek Hale, one of only three known descendants of the large Hale pack of Beacon Hills. Family perished in a house fire about a decade ago, later revealed to have been set by hunters. The subj. was not present during the fire. Only known survivor was a maternal uncle, who took years to recover from his injuries and was effectively not present in subj.'s life during that period. Subj.’s older sister, Laura Hale (also absent during the fire) was killed some 6 y. later. Having lost his alpha twice, subj. became Hale alpha under yet to be determined circumstances.

The subj. comes to me as a self-referral hence there is no pre-diagnosis. The only symptoms he indicates are sleep disturbances (difficulties getting to sleep due to inability to switch off + occasional nightmares). Travels an hour each way for the appointment. It can be hoped that this speaks to his commitment to the process. Arrives with 10 min. to spare and walks into the office with confidence. However, he makes no attempt to shake hands and keeps himself at a distance that is not necessary for self-preservation in the presence of a human female. An aborted attempt to bridge the distance unsurprisingly ends with the subj. stepping back unobtrusively.

 

Transcript from the recording:

AW: Can I call you Derek? It’s not strictly necessary, but it’ll make it easier to establish a trusting relationship. Naturally, if I ever meet you outside this room, I’ll defer to you with the respect your status affords you. Calling you by your first name does not imply any disrespect.

DH ( _indifferent_ ): It makes no difference to me. Lots of people call me by my first name because they remember me from when I was a child. My status isn’t affected by that.

AW: Thank you. Tell me why you’re here.

DH ( _shrugs, crosses his arms, answers after long pause, sounds almost confused_ ): Someone once told me I have issues. I want to address them.

AW: That someone must have some considerable influence on you if you take their word for it. Or did you agree with the assessment?

DH ( _pauses before speaking, speaks with disdain_ ): …I'm aware that I'm fucked up. ( _startles_ ) Sorry. I didn’t… it won’t happen again. ( _manners seem to be ingrained, likely from childhood_ ) I meant to say I am aware that I’m… difficult.

AW: You can express yourself however you wish. I’ve heard much worse. Even been addressed with much worse. So you agreed with the person and decided to seek help. What are you trying to achieve?

DH: …I want... to get rid of my demons.

AW: And what do you consider your demons?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): Too many to list.

AW: And if you do manage to come to terms with these demons, what do you think will happen after? What are you hoping for?

DH ( _sardonically_ ): Hope? ( _shakes head_ )

AW: ...

DH: …I suppose I want to be normal.

AW: I don’t deal with those concepts. We’re all normal in our own unique way.

DH: Okay. …I want to be able to sustain a relationship.

AW: Don’t you have a pack?

DH: I do.

AW: How many?

DH: Four betas. One child. Five betas if you count my uncle, whose allegiances are anybody’s guess.

AW: You must have relationships with them.

DH: …Not that kind of relationship.

AW: So you’re seeking a relationship of the romantic kind? Or physical? A mate?

DH ( _vehemently_ ): I _have_ a mate! ( _deep breath, calming with some effort_ ) Sorry.

AW: Don’t apologize. Is your mate one of your betas?

DH: …No. He’s human. I... lost him some time ago.

AW: I'm sorry to hear that. How did he die?

DH: He’s not dead. ( _long pause_ ) …He left.

AW: He left you specifically?

DH ( _sardonically_ ): Quite. ( _softly_ ) It wasn’t his fault. I left him no choice.

AW: There are always choices, Derek. Was there violence?

DH: What? No! I would never... Stiles would never stand for that.

AW: And this Stiles was the someone who told you that you have issues?

DH ( _nods_ ): That obvious?

AW: It’s my job. Tell me about Stiles.

DH: No.

AW: Why not?

DH: …Stiles was... Stiles isn’t a person I have issues with.

AW: I see.

 

General session notes:

When prompted, the subj. talks freely and without any apparent discomfort about his childhood. His mother was the alpha of his pack, a much revered matriarch from a long, unbroken line of alphas. The subj. was the 2nd child of 4. His elder sister, Laura, was groomed to become alpha after their mother, a role she ultimately took up after the murder of their family. The subj. speaks of an idyllic upbringing, a house in a large forest, surrounded by a large family (unusually his pack consisted entirely of family members). A younger brother, Henry, 4 y. his junior, perished in the fire. A second sister, Cora, 7 y. his junior, was assumed dead but was later found alive and is now part of his pack again.

The subj. describes his childhood as carefree. His older sister took the brunt of their parents’ expectations. (During his account, he wonders briefly if she may have resented this, but admits he remembers her as carefree as himself.) His parents were attentive and, from his viewpoint, very happily married (emphasizes this several times, not as an assertion to cover up an unwelcome truth he doesn’t want to acknowledge but as a source of wonderment to him).

There was also an extended family living in the house. The maternal uncle, much younger than the subj.'s mother, more of a companion to the subj., also a maternal aunt and her spouse with 1 child and a paternal uncle and his human spouse and their 2 children. The subj. describes family life as loud and somewhat rowdy.

The parents had a large number of friends and due to his mother’s position in the werewolf community there were always a number of guests in the house. The subj. recalls celebrations as well as more serious occasions when the children weren’t welcome but doesn’t recollect this as something the children resented. By all accounts, the Hale children were given a lot of freedom, coupled with guidance and strong pack cohesion.

 

Preliminary conclusion:

Probably due to the subsequent loss of his family, the subj. has romanticized his childhood to some degree. He obviously loved his family and the ups and downs of normal family life have merged into a life of perpetual harmony in his mind. However, there is no indication that any traumatic events took place during his childhood that may have damaged him in any way and need to be explored. There is no point in making him aware of any minor disagreements there may have been with a family/pack he wants to remember as idyllic. None of those are likely to have caused his current problems.

On the surface the subj. appears to talk openly. The topic of today’s session does not seem to cause him any pain, on the contrary, he seems to enjoy remembering his family and displays no difficulty talking about them. However, he appears to be closed off in general, almost aggressively so when the topic turns to events and persons that cause him discomfort.

Note for later sessions:

Explore relationship with his mate – Stiles ( _surname???_ ). Mention of him causes most obvious defensive reaction.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Derek's sitting in the swing seat on the veranda of his house, which the pack finished rebuilding over two years ago and have lived in ever since. It stands proudly over three floors like it used to in his childhood. Outwardly the only difference is a lighter wood, making a surprising difference to the overall impression. On the inside there are more significant changes including a spacious escape tunnel with several exits that took four months to dig. Even now there’s still much work to be done. Isaac, Cora and Cal help him lay a road through the woods every weekend. While the dirt track did its share to dispel visitors in the past, it’s no longer necessary and in the winter it will be easier to get into town if the path isn’t soggy and full of holes. Valeska’s old Focus got stuck three times in January.

At the moment there’s only the Camaro, Cora’s Jeep and the ‘Pack mobile’ – an SUV big enough for all of them – parked on the round graveled area in front of the house. Everybody else is out and Derek’s enjoying the quiet, listening to his sister’s voice cooing to the baby. She has a lot more patience with Tabitha than he would have given her credit for considering how strongly she argued against the addition to the pack – as if it wasn’t too late by then anyway. Valeska hadn’t exactly asked for permission, but she’d made her wishes clear in advance and taken his silence – correctly – as tacit agreement.

Cora’s footsteps come closer until she appears in the doorway with the baby in her arms. “Where were you all day? You’re forever running off to god-knows-where.”

“I had things to do. Where is everyone?”

“Isaac’s at work. Valeska popped out to get diapers and food and Cal went with her. They’ve been ages. If you ask me, they’re just parked somewhere, making out – or worse.”

“Which is why I don’t ask you,” he says evenly, settling the baby in his arm when Cora hands her to him without asking or waiting for his agreement. He blindly holds out his other hand until she also places the milk bottle there.

“As long as they don’t lumber us with another kid.” Since she split up with her boyfriend of two years, Cora has become more and more exasperated with the ‘two lovebirds’ as she calls Valeska and Cal. She can be downright vicious and the fights she tries to pick with Valeska aren’t pretty.

“I don’t think it works that way, Cora.”

“Whatever. I have to do a video conference to inform my customer that the color scheme that he now doesn’t like is the very one he chose in the first place. It’s not as if I didn’t warn him it would look like crap from the start. Now I’ll probably end up re-doing everything overnight.”

“You love your job,” he says without inflection. He insists that all his betas are either studying or working so that they don’t get complacent with a life of leisure, although he could probably afford to support all of them at a modest level. Cora has her own graphic design business, having left college with a degree in graphics and multi-media studies. Isaac has been working in construction for two years now and is taking evening classes in architecture, maths and physics. Right now Valeska is on a year-long break from her accountancy job after giving birth in February, while Cal is a landscape gardener for the big garden center in town. All of them work part-time so that there’s plenty of room for other activities. Derek is the only one with no official job, but he wouldn’t have time for one anyway.

Cora goes back into the house and Derek finally smiles at Tabitha, holding the bottle to her lips to see if she wants it. She does, she always does. He remembers this from when Cora was born. She seemed to be feeding all the time, too. Werewolf babies have a slightly higher metabolism so he has high hopes for this one. Not all children of werewolf parents, even when both are born wolves, turn out wolves but if Tabitha doesn’t, it won’t be a problem either.

By now he’s become used to having a baby around. The fierce, almost panicked protectiveness he experienced at first has leveled off to manageable. His life is no longer so dangerous or unstable that it will endanger her. She is as safe as any of them or as she would be with human parents. Other than Chris and Allison Argent he hasn’t seen a hunter in over a year. He thinks he made the right decision to allow this. His mother always said that children are what gives a pack cohesion and Tabitha has certainly conquered everyone’s heart in one fell swoop.

Not for the first time he wonders what Stiles would make of her, then shakes his head angrily to dispel that thought. It’s been _four_ _years!_  Four long years of struggling to not get snowed under by loneliness while being surrounded by his own pack, which shouldn’t be possible but somehow is. The pain doesn’t seem to diminish much over time. He had to do something, which is how he ended up with Dr Winter. The thing is that he never felt particularly unhappy before he and Stiles got together. Lonely, yes, sometimes, angry, certainly, most of the time, but there was no longing for something more, no concept that it could even exist. You can’t long for something you’ve never experienced. But now he vividly remembers how happy he was with Stiles. It's so sharp and clear as if it was only yesterday. He wants to feel like that again with someone, somehow, some day.

Thinking back to the appointment he had this morning, it turned out easier than he’d feared. She just wanted him to talk about his childhood. He has no problem with that. All his memories are completely compartmentalized by necessity, otherwise he’d go crazy. He can reminisce with Cora for hours about their family and not once make the mental leap to the fact that they’re dead, just like he can love this house without thinking about how they died here. He _likes_ talking about his family. In a sense it keeps them alive for him. Stiles taught him that.

Distantly he can hear a car coming up the path, the noise changing to a quiet hum when it reaches the asphalted part. Recognizing the slightly mistuned engine sound, he stays right where he is and watches the police cruiser roll onto the gravel and park next to his own car. The sheriff raises his hand in greeting through the window and gets out to join him on the veranda, peering smilingly at Tabitha but not touching. He always respects the boundaries of the pack meticulously.

“I see you added quite a bit to the road,” he remarks. It’s been three weeks since he was here last and with the weather being so good, the pack’s been working on the path on all the weekends in between.

“Yeah, we should be able to finish it before the winter.” Derek withdraws the bottle when the baby tries to spit it out, running the teat along her bottom lip a couple of times to see if she changes her mind, then hands it to his companion, who takes it automatically. He lifts Tabitha to his shoulder and rubs her back. There’s a long pause while both men are silently gazing at the trees past the graveled area. It has long since seized to feel awkward to be alone with Stilinski, whether it’s in conversation or in silence.

“Are you going down south at the weekend?” the sheriff finally asks, his tone level.

Derek shakes his head. “Isaac said Scott’s going.”

“So you’re free this weekend?”

“Looks like.”

“Fancy some fishing? I have the weekend off.”

Derek nods. “Sure.” He’s found a new passion in fishing after the sheriff introduced him to it. He wouldn’t go on his own but trekking to a secluded spot with Stilinski to stand by – or in – a river for hours on end with very little talk has proved to be the most relaxing time he’s had in a long while. Stilinski is pretty successful at it, too. Derek not so much. He could probably catch more fish with his bare hands than he does with a rod, but that’s entirely besides the point.

Tabitha gives a wet burp on his shoulder and he hums his approval, making her sigh happily. Before she can go to sleep, he gets up and hands her to the other man, whose whole face lights up when he carefully settles her in his arm. It does so every time – and every time Derek thinks of Stiles saying he wanted a dozen kids. Those kids will certainly win the lottery where their grandfather – and father – is concerned. He clears his throat. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

By the time Valeska and Cal return from town, Derek’s in the kitchen, starting the dinner. Their guest is happily bouncing the baby on his knee and Cora can be heard losing her patience with her customer. She should really employ someone as a go-between. Her work is great but her people skills leave much to be desired.

The sheriff and Derek are chatting amiably about police work, the deputies and any new people either of them may have seen in town. Derek talks about how the pack is doing and what he knows of Scott and Kira through Isaac. As his beta is still dating Allison, Derek knows more about what goes on in her life than he does about the other Beacon Hills pack. They only come together by necessity. But the sheriff usually has some information he’s gleaned from Melissa McCall, so between them, they can piece together what Scott’s up to pretty accurately.

An hour later they’re all sitting around the dinner table in deep talk. The sheriff is a regular visitor, so his presence doesn’t hinder the flow of the conversation. Only Isaac is absent because he’s meeting Allison after work. Cora has regaled them all with the woes of having idiots for clients and hinting heavily at how long Valeska and Cal were in town leaving her to fend for Tabitha. Derek clears his throat pointedly until she amends, “Well, until Derek came home.”

Derek mentions that he’ll be away from the house on Saturday. Every member of his pack always accounts for their whereabouts in advance, if possible, or as it happens if something unplanned comes up. It entails giving notice of absences, destinations and likely time of return. He does the same, although he doesn’t always tell the others where he’s going – the perks of being the alpha.

“Fishing again?” Cora asks a little mockingly.

Despite her outward disapproval, Derek knows she’s always happy about his absences because it allows her to take charge. He hasn’t named a second-in-command yet and so she naturally assumes the position. There doesn’t seem any point in stopping her from doing that until he actually makes a decision. All he knows so far is that it won’t be her. She’s far too aggressive and confrontational. He needs someone to contrast and complement his own personality and that really only leaves Isaac or Cal because Valeska is as hot-headed as Cora.

When he hears an unfamiliar car approach, he waits patiently for his pack to notice. A car coming up the road isn’t a danger in itself – they have lots of visitors, friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike – but he still expects them all to be as vigilant as he is. It takes ten seconds until Cal says, “Visitors,” just before Cora and Valeska do the same.

“Damn,” Valeska huffs in frustration. Giving the first warning always gives that person bragging rights until the next time. All the betas are competitive to some degree.

Derek gives Cal an approving smile and she grins back at him. When he allowed Valeska to join his pack, he realized straight away what an asset her partner would be, which contributed greatly to his decision. Having Cal around has a calming effect on Valeska and balances the whole pack just that little bit more.

“You want me to go?” the sheriff asks.

Derek shakes his head. “No. Finish your meal. I’ll be back in a moment. I’ll just see what they want.”

He steps out of the house just as a dark-green SUV pulls onto the gravel. There’s only one occupant, a woman of around forty, with chestnut brown hair, cut very short. She eyes the police cruiser for a few moments, while the engine is still running, then decides to kill it and get out after all. Her height is imposing, matching his easily.

“Is this a bad time?” she asks without coming any closer.

Derek shakes his head. “Not at all.” He gives no explanation for the police presence because he doesn’t have to. At his side he can feel Cal and Cora framing him now, which means that Valeska is keeping an eye on the back to make sure there aren’t any unpleasant surprises. After years of living together, his pack is well-trained and he won’t ever take any chances.

“Greetings, Alpha Hale,” the woman says formally as she approaches. “My name is Sarah Fowler of the Moretti pack. I’m looking for Valeska Curnock.”

Derek has a bad feeling about this. The Moretti pack must have a good reason to come here as their territory is a six-hour drive away. He’s heard a lot about them, as he knows every pack in California and the surrounding states to a certain extent. The Moretti pack is a little special though. “And what would you want with my beta?”

“I have news for her which I must impart in person.”

He looks at Cora, who gives him a brief glare for sending her away instead of Cal but nonetheless leaves to get Valeska and take over her watch in the back. When he looks at Cal, the young woman is staring at their visitor with some trepidation although outwardly she remains calm.

A few moments later Valeska comes rushing out of the house but stops next to him when Derek puts his hand out just barely touching her. “Mrs. Fowler. What are you doing here?” Valeska seems merely surprised, then radiates a spike of fear. “Is everything okay?”

Derek knows that Valeska has spent a considerable part of her life interacting with the Moretti pack. She and their eldest son, Marco, were close childhood friends, so close in fact that she chose him to be the father of her child. However, that fact is known to very few people so it doesn’t explain this visit.

“Is there somewhere we can talk alone?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Derek answers evenly in Valeska’s place. “But you’re welcome to enter my home.”

“Mrs. Fowler’s okay,” Valeska says quietly. “I've known her forever.”

Derek gives her a warning look not to contradict him in front of others, making her duck her head in submission. “I’m aware of that. However, I will be present during this conversation.” He can sense that this isn’t a social visit.

They all file into the house, where Cal reluctantly goes back into the kitchen to keep the sheriff company, while Cora remains somewhere out back. Derek makes an inviting gesture towards the large living room they built for just such occasions as this and lets the women walk past him. They take seats opposite each other on the large couches while Derek sits in one of the armchairs, a little removed to give them a semblance of privacy but still in full view and able to watch them both.

“I have grave news,” Sarah begins and her feelings of sorrow are sincere.

Valeska shoots him a glance as if she’s hoping he can stop this conversation from becoming upsetting. All he can do is give her a reassuring nod, knowing that he can’t prevent bad news but promising her that she won’t be alone to deal with whatever it is.

“Marco was killed in a car accident two days ago. His injuries... there was nothing we could do. It happened so fast.”

Valeska gasps audibly, looking stunned for a full minute before tears spring to her eyes.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Derek tells Sarah honestly. He knows a bit about losing loved ones. As far as he knows, Marco was the only child of the Moretti alpha and if memory serves him right, Sarah is the alpha’s sister, which would make Marco her nephew. “It was kind of you to bring the news in person.” As yet he hasn’t worked out why she did that. He looks at Valeska, who seems distraught, and calls out Cal’s name.

Within seconds Cal comes flying into the room and sits down next to Valeska, drawing her into her arms and making soothing noises while stroking her back. “I'm so sorry, baby. You just cry for as long as you need to.”

Derek can see Sarah pull back in her seat instinctively, whether it’s from embarrassment at the display of raw emotions or the obvious intimacy between the two young women. “If you’d like to attend the funeral, it’s on Thursday,” she says a little stiffly, addressing only Valeska.

Derek clears his throat. “If you give me the details, I will accompany Valeska and Callista to the funeral.”

Sarah looks at him and hesitates. Now is the time to make clear who’ll be welcome and who won’t, but then she just nods, accepting his stipulations. He gets her a pen and notepad and stands over her while she writes down the address and the time. Something feels off about the whole thing. Even given the fact that Valeska’s parents haven’t spoken to her in over three years and aren’t likely to tell her about the death of her old friend, a phone call would have been ample notification. Valeska isn’t that close to anyone in the Moretti pack anymore, not even Marco, who was caught up in mating plans for several months before his death.

“I think it’s best if we leave Valeska and Cal alone for a while,” he says, still standing, making it clear he expects Sarah to leave the room. “Can I offer you anything before you travel back?”

“No, I'm fine. Thank you.” She seems polite enough and he can sense no threat from her. “I hope to see you on Thursday,” she says to Valeska, who nods but is in no fit state to answer civilly or even form coherent sentences. After a few moments Sarah follows him out into the hall.

Upstairs Tabitha gives a piercing shriek, which is her habitual way of announcing she’s awake and none too pleased to find herself in bed _again._ She’s a fretful baby, who’s only really happy when she’s around the rest of her pack.

Sarah’s head comes up sharply. “I heard Valeska had a child. Can I see it?”

And there it is. She’s far too eager for this to be just some whim because she’s somehow feeling maternal. Derek's hackles are raised in an instant. “Maybe some other time.”

“But...” She stops dead when the sheriff, still in his uniform, appears in the kitchen doorway, raising questioning eyebrows at Derek.

Derek nods and Sarah narrows her eyes as Stilinski makes his way upstairs to the nursery. Moments later Tabitha falls silent as the quiet rumble of the sheriff’s soothing voice can be heard.

“I didn’t know the sheriff was part of your pack,” Sarah says.

Derek wonders why she would expect to know the composition of his pack unless she’s been making inquiries. When she turns back to him, he makes an inviting gesture towards the front door. Sarah’s lips thin but she says a very polite goodbye, reiterating her invitation to Valeska and suggesting she might like to bring the baby. Derek gives that idea a snowball’s chance in hell. He stands on the veranda with his arms crossed and stoically watches her drive away.

Cora joins him after a minute. “What was that all about?”

“Marco died.”

“Marco?”

“Tabitha’s father.”

“Oh, _Marco_. Why did they feel the need to tell us in person? We don’t even know the guy. Don’t they have better things to do at a time like this?” It takes her a moment to put it all together and come to the same conclusion he has. “They _know_.”

Derek nods solemnly.

 

 

Derek doesn’t apportion any blame. Marco promised to never tell anyone in his pack that he has a child. His ‘donation’ was a favor to Valeska because she couldn’t produce child with Cal. It’s not Valeska’s fault that Marco went back on his word. He certainly never showed any interest in his daughter. But Derek knows that truth will out and when it does, it’ll come back to haunt you – every time. So he doesn’t make a fuss, just informs his pack quietly of what he’s suspecting.

Valeska’s devastated, as much by the death of her friend as by his betrayal of her trust. Derek didn’t think it would stay a secret forever. At the very least, Tabitha would have a right to know when she’s old enough to understand. He just never thought it would become a problem, especially not with Marco getting set to have a mate and most likely a family of his own.

By the time Thursday comes around, Valeska has stopped crying for the most part and started to become very anxious about the coming ordeal. It takes several comforting hugs a day to keep her from spinning out of control, but together with Cal’s constant presence, they manage. On the day, he sets out with his two betas at three in the morning to attend the funeral, which is scheduled for eleven. The reception they get only confirms his suspicion. The Moretti pack makes a fuss of Valeska as if she’s a long-lost pack member and everyone seems quite upset that they didn’t bring the baby. Valeska’s misery is somewhat exacerbated by her parents being present as long-term neighbors of the Moretti family. It would probably have gone better if Cal wasn’t there to remind the Curnocks why their daughter left them, but Derek isn’t going to deprive Valeska of her emotional support just because it upsets some narrow-minded people.

Derek hasn’t been to as many funerals as people assume. After the fire, there weren’t any identifiable remains and so Laura took the two of them to New York instead of attending some bizarre ceremony involving empty coffins. Peter’s body they hid under the floor boards of his house because it would have been very difficult to explain how he managed to leave the nursing home when he was supposed to be paralyzed, never mind how he came to his new burns and cuts. At the time the teens were so freaked out about getting caught over the whole incident that they had no objections. Laura was the only real funeral he attended. Boyd and Erica were buried in the woods not far from the house, with just him, Isaac and Stiles attending. Nowadays there are markers in that place, not just for his betas but for his family, too. Cal tends the garden that surrounds them.

As funerals go, this one is truly awful. Like most people, he wishes he’d never have to attend another one and with the deceased being so young it was always going to be gut-wrenching. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children, just like children shouldn’t have to bury their parents before growing up. He sticks closely to his two betas and just tries to get through it somehow. For him the worst part is actually the barrage of questions about his mate. He makes some excuses why Stiles isn’t with them but knows that the fact that his mate has lived more than a hundred miles away for the last four years hasn't gone unnoticed in the community. He bears it as best he can, concentrating on being vigilant and doing his utmost not to think about Stiles.

They’re asked to the Moretti home afterwards but decline, citing the long drive home as the reason. When they’re invited to stay the night, he simply states that they have to get back for the baby. Derek winces inwardly at turning down what is a considerable honor, but much as he likes to foster good relations where he can, he’s too wary of the ulterior motives in this case. Whenever he’s not confident of how to read a situation, he always errs on the side of caution. His decisions no longer concern only him.

Marsha Moretti, Marco’s mother and the alpha of her pack, takes him aside before he has a chance to leave quietly. “I would like to visit your home after the mourning period,” she says. “If you allow it.”

Derek doesn’t have the heart to deny her anything when her eyes are red-rimmed with grief. “Of course. You’re welcome in my home. Let me know when it suits you.”

“Thank you, Derek. I knew you’re a sensible man.”

Derek doesn’t like the sound of that but he lets it slide in view of the occasion. As they drive away, he can see Virginia Curnock watching them with an inscrutable expression. Neither of Valeska’s parents spoke to her – or him – before or after the funeral. Derek will never understand why families do these things to each other – and he thinks warmly of how differently Stiles’s father reacted when he found out whom his son had chosen as a partner. He still wonders about the reasons for that sometimes.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have never been to therapy. I assume none of what I wrote is realistic in that respect. Apologies for that if it offends you.


	2. Chapter 2

 

**2.**

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER _

General impression:

Subject arrives in good time again. Greeting is friendly, less reserved than the first time. He is wearing dark jeans and a dark sweater, slightly less formal than before. These are good signs that he’s settling into the therapy. He seems fairly at ease although he’s still wearing his oversized jacket like armor.

 

Transcript from the session:

AW: You seem relaxed. Did you have a good week?

DH ( _sardonic_ ): Sure, going to funerals is always such fun.

AW: Whose funeral was it? Someone close?

DH: One of my betas lost a close friend. We had to attend the funeral. ( _obviously holding back_ )

AW: Okay. And how did that make you feel?

DH: I don’t like to see my betas upset. And I most definitely don’t like funerals. I'm sure I'm not alone in that.

AW: Certainly not. But I sense that you’re at ease today in contradiction to what you just said.

DH: I went fishing at the weekend. It relaxes me.

AW: I must confess I wouldn’t have expected that particular hobby from you. Did you go alone?

DH: With a friend.

AW: Tell me about this friend.

DH: He’s the father of my mate. He introduced me to fishing and we go whenever he has free time. He’s the sheriff so it doesn’t happen all that often.

AW: You and the father of your mate are friends?

DH ( _defensive_ ): Yes. Why?

AW: How did that happen?

DH: I don’t really know. When Stiles was around, it was always awkward to meet his dad, but after he left we just seemed to meet a lot to work together. After a while we started meeting outside work as well. It just happened.

AW: And do you talk about Stiles when you’re together?

DH: No.

AW: His choice or yours?

DH: Both. He misses him so he doesn’t want to talk about him because it makes him miss him more.

AW: And you?

DH: ...

AW: Do you ever talk about Stiles?

DH: No.

AW: Why not?

DH: He... I... none of my betas know him well, or at all. And his father doesn’t want to, so I have no occasion to talk about him.

AW: Would you like to?

DH: No.

AW: Why not, Derek?

DH ( _shrugs, helpless not stubborn_ ): ...

AW: ...

DH: He’s... it’s private.

AW: Our talks won’t help you if you keep things ‘private’, Derek. You’ll have to talk about him eventually, precisely _because_ you don’t want to.

DH: There’s nothing to say. He left. Nothing traumatic happened between us. He just left.

AW: Seems traumatic enough to me.

DH: I'm not some delicate flower who can’t take getting dumped.

AW: And yet you’re here because of something he said to you.

DH ( _appears ready to get up, possibly to leave, but perseveres, crossing his arms, staring at the wall_ ): ...

AW: We don’t have to talk about it today.

DH ( _relieved_ ): Good.

General session notes:

When asked what he considers the end of his childhood, subj. surprisingly does not talk about his family’s death but about his first romantic relationship, with a girl named Paige. They met in high school and were a couple for a while. It sounds like a pleasant memory for the subj. until he comes to the point where Paige is bitten by a werewolf and the bite doesn’t take.

 

AW: I don’t quite understand the sequence of events. Did you ask this alpha to bite her?

DH: No. I didn’t know anyone, other than my mother, who could do that.

AW: So it was your uncle Peter who arranged it?

DH: Yes.

AW: Did you ask him to?

DH: ...

AW: Derek? Did you ask Peter to find someone to give Paige the bite?

DH: I'm not entirely sure.

AW: What does that mean?

DH: …Peter was always talking about Paige. That she was human and that she was so fragile. He said if I really loved her, I’d want her to become a werewolf, so we could be together forever. I didn’t know what to think. It was my first relationship and it was exciting and fun. I thought I was in love.

AW: You don’t think that anymore?

DH: I don’t know. All teenagers think that it’s forever when they’re in love. At the time I thought she was the love of my life.

AW: And now?

DH ( _shakes head_ ): I was young and stupid. I did love her but it doesn’t compare to… I didn’t find out what love really was until much later.

AW: What happened with Paige?

DH: Peter told me one day that it was all arranged. I was kind of glad that I didn’t have to make the decision. I wasn’t good with making decisions. I hadn’t even told her I'm a werewolf. I was _that_ stupid. And I trusted Peter. He was always so sure about everything. I wanted to be with her forever. But I never asked her what she wanted.

AW: Did Peter ask _you_ what _you_ wanted?

DH: I never said no, not clearly, not at all really. I didn’t really say anything at all. And then it was too late. All I could do was hole up in this cave and... she was in so much pain... she asked me to make it stop.

AW: You killed her?

DH ( _nods slowly, not making eye contact_ ): …

AW: How did you come back from that?

DH: My mother. She was very understanding. She helped me through it. I think it caused a real rift between her and Peter, though.

AW: Did you blame him?

DH: It was my fault. I could have stopped it. I _should_ have stopped it. Peter quite rightly said it wasn’t his fault. He thought he was doing it for me.

AW: Did you ever question that?

DH ( _pensive_ ): Should I?

AW: From other things you’ve told me, Peter sounds quite devious. I think you’d be within your rights to question his motives.

DH ( _long pause_ ): Peter’s more than devious. He’s a psychopath. I honestly thought it was the fire that turned him into that. But I also remember that my mother was wary of him, always questioning what he was up to. I felt sorry for him after Paige died, because I thought it was my fault that my mother was angry with him.

AW: You should maybe think about how much of this was your fault and how much was Peter’s. If he’s conniving now, he may have been before the fire as well and you just weren’t aware of it. If he is a sociopath or a psychopath, he would have been before the fire, too, and he may well have had an ulterior motive.

DH: Like what?

AW: Would your mother have been pleased if Paige had been turned?

DH: Most certainly not. She was very much against giving the bite to outsiders.

AW: So either way, you would have been in trouble with your parents.

DH: I guess so.

AW: And do you think Peter would have benefited from that?

DH: I can’t see how. He would have been in trouble right along with me. It’s not as if they would have liked him more if they liked me less.

AW: But didn’t you say he was always in trouble with your mother anyway?

DH: Misery loves company?

AW: Or simple jealousy. A sociopath will destroy what he can’t have. If he was jealous of you, this may have been a way to undermine your position in the family.

DH: ...

General session notes:

The subj.'s first romantic relationship ended traumatically with him mercy-killing his girlfriend. It would be surprising if he’d been able to form any functioning romantic relationships after that, especially since he tells me that he has never talked about this before. He has also suppressed the episode in his mind, as is evidenced by the fact that he has given next to no thought to the role his uncle played. It appears that P.H. had sway over the subj. at this time in his life and was the instigator of the whole episode if the subj.'s account of it is correct. The subj. is critical enough of P.H. that he could have worked this out by himself if he hadn’t suppressed his feelings. Subj. also has a high capacity for taking blame upon himself rather than apportioning it appropriately (e.g. he thinks P.H.’s problems with his mother may have been his fault). While he is not innocent in Paige’s death, he is by no means the villain of the piece. Hopefully he will have some insights into what really happened after talking about it today.

 

Notes for later sessions:

Explore subj.'s relationship with the father of his mate. It looks like a relationship born from the absence of the same person in both their lives but has developed into a genuine friendship judging by subj.'s demeanor when he talks about it. There must be quite an age difference. ( _Father figure or way to keep ties with Stiles?_ )

 

*** * * * ***

For a couple of days afterwards Derek keeps thinking about his session with Dr. Winter, which he supposes is the whole point of going to therapy. It isn’t so much that he didn’t know that Peter’s been manipulative all his life but rather that he was too naïve to spot it at the time. What also gets to him is that Stiles knew straight away. The one time he and Stiles talked about Paige, Stiles insisted that Peter’s version must have been skewed. It wasn’t even a question to him. Granted, Stiles didn’t know Peter before his sociopathic tendencies became hard to overlook, but Derek has a feeling that Stiles would have always looked right through him.

He misses that. He misses Stiles’s advice and his innate wisdom, however drolly he may choose to impart it. He misses how Stiles could read people, how he wouldn’t be fooled by anyone and misses how he would doggedly work on a problem and never give up. He misses his loyalty, his concern, his warmth. Misses his arms around him, his soft touches, his hands on his skin, his lips... _fuck!_ He promised himself he wouldn’t think about Stiles anymore, not in that way. Mostly he succeeds, but it involves actively thinking about other things, other people. And sometimes... sometimes he just doesn’t want to be sensible anymore. If he thought it would make any difference, he would do anything, try anything, be anything to get Stiles back. But he knows it won’t. Stiles made his decision. He left. He left Derek. Because Derek wasn’t right for him.

On Wednesday the sheriff asks him over to his house. They often meet there, at least once or twice a week. Derek suspects that the other man will never quite get over his slight discomfort of knowing that the betas can hear every word he says if they choose to. Derek knows they won’t listen in on any conversations their alpha has, but the sheriff lacks that confidence. And maybe he just likes having someone else in the house every once in a while. It must be lonely since Stiles left for Stanford.

Derek accepts a beer when he gets there, more to be sociable than because he wants it. There’s sport on the TV but neither of them is paying much attention, keeping the volume down to almost inaudible. Sometimes they can be silent for hours, usually when they go fishing, and sometimes they never stop talking the whole time they’re together. Derek often wonders if being in tune with him may just be a family trait and he never has any qualms about filling Stilinski in on pack business. More often than not it has ramifications for the man’s job anyway and if he’s honest it’s just nice to talk to a friend instead of his betas. You can’t show uncertainty with your betas.

“So you think this other pack might want to... what exactly? Have visitation rights with Tabitha?”

Derek shrugs. “Not sure. If Marsha just wants to see her granddaughter from time to time, I can’t see what harm it would do. It’s up to Valeska for the most part. Depends on how she feels about the Morettis. If she says no or if it causes problems between her and Cal, I’ll have to put a stop to it.”

“Will that be difficult?”

Derek picks at the label on his bottle and shrugs again. “The Moretti pack is huge. Up to twenty-five members, last I heard. Depends on how far they’re willing to go.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, quite. Although I can’t see them starting a war over it.”

“Well, if you need any assistance from the law, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

They both look at the TV without much interest until Stilinski asks quietly, “Are you going down south at the weekend?”

Derek nods. Over time, they’ve developed a code, as if what they’re doing is illegal or somehow shameful. Derek's not ashamed, he’d just prefer not to acknowledge it openly. So ‘down south’ has become a euphemism for Stanford. ‘I was visiting’ really means ‘I spent time with Stiles’ in the sheriff’s case and ‘I was watching Stiles from a distance’ in Derek's. At the moment the sheriff goes once a month, Derek goes twice, the remaining weekend usually falls to Scott or Stiles comes home to Beacon Hills, although neither of the two friends knows that they’ve been incorporated into a schedule.

Derek considers it a necessity. Stiles remains pack no matter how far away he’s moved and as such he’s in danger of being targeted by other packs. The constant protection Derek once promised is no longer feasible, but he’ll do his utmost to keep Stiles safe. He usually watches his interactions with his new friends to find signs of insincerity there and looks for anyone else watching him. Apart from one other student in his first year, Derek hasn’t seen any werewolves around. So far Stiles seems like a normal college student, with a normal routine, normal friends and normal... boyfriends.

“I hope that Thomas guy disappears soon,” the sheriff throws out, as if he can tell where Derek's mind has wandered off to. It’s not a terribly astounding deduction. Derek's mind usually goes down well-worn paths.

Thomas is the latest in a long line of guys – and some girls – Stiles has dated since he’s been away. Stiles doesn’t really have one-night-stands any longer – although Derek's witnessed a few of them until about nine months ago – but nowadays he dates at such a breakneck speed that he rarely gets to two weeks. This Thomas guy must be an exception since he was already around last time Derek was in Stanford and apparently still is. Derek tries to ignore how his stomach tightens at the thought of it.

“That guy is incredibly clingy,” the sheriff adds.

“Maybe that’s the way to go. All the others didn’t last long.”

“This one won’t last forever either.”

It could just be the wishful thinking of a father, but Derek also doesn’t like the consoling undertone. He really hates being pitied. And how pathetic do you have to be when people still feel the need to comfort you after _four years_? He’s relieved when Stilinski changes the subject.

 

 

When he reaches the Stanford campus on Friday afternoon, he has a letter in his pocket that he received that morning. It’s not often that he receives formal letters and this one is _very_ formal. He’s read it over a few times and everything is done by the book. The situation is a lot more serious than he realized. And it leaves him with a huge problem for which he only sees one solution, one that he can no longer avoid.

Finding Stiles is never a problem. He can find his heartbeat in a sea of people and even sense him over quite a distance. It’s a benefit of being mates. Usually he watches from afar. He knows several of Stiles’s new friends by now, though none of them by name, except for his roommate, who’s called Terence and does something arty. There’s also a girl with varying hair colors and piercings, whom Derek calls ‘the Goth’. She’s in a lot of Stiles’s classes and a good friend. The guy who runs with Stiles in the evenings three times a week he’s dubbed ‘Stripes’ because he wore a stripy sweater the first two times Derek saw them together. The guy with the long hair, who smells of weed even from a distance, he’s named ‘the dealer’. Even though Stiles partakes in some recreational drugs, the name’s just a joke. Derek considers him a harmless stoner. There are various other people in his life, but by virtue of there being so many, no one seems significant.

But everything is different today. Not only is that Thomas guy still around – Derek called him Romeo the last time he was here on account of his obvious romantic intentions – but Derek also needs to change his usual tactic of unobtrusive observation. Since he’s achieved the full shift to wolf, Derek has become more confident. His pack is strong and committed, giving him further strength, so he no longer hesitates and lurks but tackles his problems full on. Today that means approaching Stiles after not speaking to him for nearly four years.

He finds him on one of the roofed walkways where he can see him having a spirited discussion with Thomas, who’s making repeated attempts to grab Stiles’s arm when he’s about to leave. Stiles doesn’t seem happy about the whole encounter and they’re obviously arguing. Derek doesn’t try to intervene or listen in, he wouldn’t dare, but he’s glad he has an excuse to approach.

Somehow Stiles seems to sense him because he turns in the middle of whatever he’s saying and looks at Derek with wide eyes, making Derek's chest tighten. Then Stiles’s whole face lights up and he bridges the ten-yard gap between them with a few quick strides and pulls Derek into his arms and kisses him. Derek is too stunned to react much at first, but after just a few seconds, he closes his eyes and kisses back. Everything comes crashing down on him all at once, longing, euphoria, want, love. His knees almost buckle with all the emotions he’s feeling. Stiles is kissing him. _Stiles_ is _kissing_ him. However he imagined this meeting to go – from Stiles shouting at him or ignoring him or even being speechless – not in a million years did he expect this turn of events and he just wants it to go on forever.

But of course it doesn’t. Stiles, who’s kissing him like he wants to fuck him right here on the open walkway one minute, pulls away the next. Derek involuntarily follows him with his mouth and finally opens his eyes when Stiles remains out of reach.

“Uh... hey,” Stiles says, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey,” Derek says, his voice a little rough, heart thumping loudly. He desperately wants this to continue, wants them to go back to how they were before. He _misses_ Stiles.

“Is he gone?”

It takes him endless moments of looking into Stiles’s eyes – beautiful, honey-colored, warm – and not registering the question or anything other than that Stiles is here, and smiling and that they kissed. Then the words filter through to him. He looks over Stiles’s shoulder and sees that Thomas has disappeared, so he just nods. He seems to have lost his voice.

“Good. That’ll teach him. I’ve been trying to break up with him, but he just doesn’t take the hint. Or even the very much not-hinted-at-all and clearly-expressed _‘We’re done. Go away.’_ You’d think I'm god’s gift or something the way he’s carrying on. I never had this problem before. Usually they’re quite happy to take a hike. But no, this one thought we’d get married and have babies together. What are you doing here? Is my dad okay? Is Scott?” He’s still smiling, if a little more tentatively now.

Derek feels sick. Stiles kissed him to send a message to his ex-boyfriend? He didn’t think about what that might do to Derek? Or has he moved on so completely that he can’t imagine Derek hasn’t done the same? When he finds his voice, all he can say is, “I need your help,” in a strange croak.

Stiles’s smile falters a little further. “With what exactly?”

“I have a situation. It concerns my pack and I need an emissary.”

“Oh. But didn’t you tell everyone at the parley that I'm the McCall emissary? Can I be both?”

Derek is encouraged by the fact that Stiles doesn’t dismiss the idea outright. “At the moment you're more like the Beacon Hills emissary. I didn’t say that you’re _not_ my emissary and so everyone assumes anyway.”

“So you’re still doing all this stuff flying by the seat of your pants?” He manages to convey his amusement at that while looking disapproving at the same time.

“My pants are perfectly fine, thank you.”

Stiles does the elevator eyes and grins. “Yes, I agree.”

Derek really hopes that the flirting won’t start up again. It was hard enough before they got together. It would be unbearable now.

“Let’s go to my room.”

On the walk to the dorms, Stiles points out different parts of the campus and Derek doesn’t let on that he knows the place so well he could find his way around blindfolded. He’s more interested in the ways Stiles has changed. He seems taller somehow although he isn’t really. His body has filled out a little with some muscle definition visible under his thin sweater. It’s very distracting. His hair is spiked up, a little messy and darker somehow.

When they enter the building, Derek almost gives himself away by walking over to the elevator although he’s not supposed to know that Stiles’s room is on the third floor, but it goes unobserved. Stiles merely carries on bemoaning the many flaws of the building, like noisy pipes and thin walls. “I feel like you, listening to a lot of crap I’d rather not hear.”

“I don’t do that,” Derek points out. He’s been brought up with manners after all. He gets it though. Unlike werewolves, humans can’t turn their hearing off or down. Right now he wishes he could switch off his sense of smell, too. Being in the elevator with Stiles envelops him in his scent, completely surrounding him. Derek has to step back to minimize it because the alternative would be to reach out for him. The dorm room smells of Stiles and his roommate in equal measures and Derek hates it. It feels wrong.

Terrence looks up from where he’s packing or unpacking a duffle bag on his bed and gives Derek the once-over, then raises an eyebrow at Stiles. “You do realize that I had Thomas whining in here for a full hour yesterday, right?”

Stiles pulls an embarrassed face. “This is Derek. He’s not... we don’t... anyway, Derek, this is Terry, my _annoying_ roommate.”

The man in question raises a hand in greeting and Derek nods solemnly.

“I’ll be out of your way in a sec,” Terry says, sounding not the least bit offended at being called annoying. He neatly folds the remaining clothes into his bag and adds a couple of books. “Can you remember to open the window before I come back on Sunday?”

“It won’t be necessary,” Stiles says a little tetchily.

Terrence looks up, first at Derek, then at Stiles, and nods. “Okay. My bad.”

Derek has long ago decided that he doesn’t need to worry about Terrence. The guy is almost painfully heterosexual and he and Stiles are quite at ease with each other. They’re friends in a casual, not-getting-in-each-other’s-space sort of way. It’s unlikely they would have become close if they hadn’t been thrown together by their living quarter allocation and they probably won’t have much to do with each other once they leave college, other than the occasional hey-how’s-it-going email. Stiles could have had it worse. So could Derek.

And then they’re suddenly alone for the first time in almost four years and Derek is flooded with memories of their time together that take his breath away with how painful they are. He doesn’t know what to say or where to look, because looking at Stiles positively hurts.

Finally Stiles clears his throat. “So what’s this problem that you need me for?” His voice is a little shaky and his heartbeat erratic.

Derek rallies himself and hands him the letter he got this morning, watching Stiles as he’s reading. Were his eyelashes always that thick and long? His hands weren’t that big in his memory either nor so dusted with hair and showing cords of veins that remind him how those hands could take him apart and put him back together again. _Don’t think about that, just don’t._

Stiles takes a long time, much longer than the short letter warrants. “This is about Tabitha?” he asks finally, handing the letter back to Derek. “Why does this woman, this Marsha Moretti, think there’s anything to discuss? Who is she?”

“She’s an alpha from up north. They have a large territory next to the Curnocks. Her son, Marco, died recently. Somehow she found out that he was Tabitha’s father. She might consider Tabitha her heir.”

“F-Father?” Stiles asks in a gruff voice, staring at Derek.

“Yes, you know, the one who supplied the sperm to make a baby? You’re familiar with the concept?”

Stiles ignores the mocking tone for once. “This Marco is the father of Valeska’s baby.” Not a question, just a startled statement. He moves backward blindly until his legs hit his bed and he sits down heavily, staring at some point on the wall.

Derek’s a little confused by Stiles’s incredulous reaction. “Yes, you must have realized that Cal and Valeska couldn’t have accomplished a baby by themselves. Do I really need to explain it to you?”

“I thought she was yours.” It comes out a mixture between angry and relieved.

Now it’s Derek's turn to be confused. “What do you mean? You thought who was mine?”

“I thought you were Tabitha’s father.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because the last time I saw Valeska she was throwing herself at any werewolf in the vicinity, especially you. And then I hear she joined your pack. Next thing she has a baby. What was I supposed to think? You _have_ surrounded yourself with a harem.”

“Hey,” Derek says a little offended. “Cora’s my sister. Valeska was already with Cal when she asked to join my pack. In fact, Cal was the main reason Valeska left her parents. And don’t let Isaac hear you say he’s in a harem, or any of them. So three of my betas are female, that’s just incidental.”

“Well, Scott said...”

“Scott shouldn’t talk about things he knows nothing about,” Derek throws in angrily. He knows the sheriff doesn’t talk about him with his son – which he appreciates – but he can’t understand how this hasn’t come up in _over a year_. That would mean that they completely blank him when they’re together. It hurts that Stiles isn’t even a little curious about how Derek’s getting on.

“Well, if Scott only talked about things he actually understands, he’d be mute most of the time.” Stiles grins, suddenly in much brighter spirits.

Derek huffs a mirthless laugh, knowing that Stiles may be happy to denigrate his best friend but won’t allow anyone else to do the same. “So, will you come? I mean, will you help us?”

“What do you need?”

“An emissary to back me up at the negotiations. You don’t need to do much, just be there. The pack looks stronger if we have a proper emissary.”

“I can do that.”

Derek is overwhelmed with relief. The chances that this will be resolved to their advantage just shot up. That must be the reason his heart is hammering in his chest. He really hopes it’s not the prospect of spending time with Stiles because that would set his attempt to move on back considerably. But there’s another hurdle to discuss first. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that if you do this, if you speak as the Hale emissary you can no longer be Scott’s. That only worked at the parley because everyone thought we were all one big happy pack in Beacon Hills. If you do this now, you will be the Hale emissary and no one else’s, just like Deaton.”

“Ah well, I don’t think Scott will ever do anything that requires an emissary. He’s quite happy with the status quo. I’m in.”

Derek takes a deep breath. For such a long time he’s assumed Stiles would always choose Scott over him that it’s overwhelming to hear him declare himself so easily. But maybe it’s just because Stiles wants an adventure. Scott hasn’t had any supernatural dealings in a couple of years and seems to prefer it that way. In a sense he got his wish from when he was first bitten of not being a werewolf at all. Stiles may just want to be in the thick of things again. Nevertheless Derek takes it as a good sign. “Thank you.”

Stiles chuckles. “Don’t thank me yet. My mouth might run away with me and mess up all your negotiations.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, I’ll do my best. And since you’re here and I've magnanimously agreed to help and all, you can buy me pizza.”

Derek smiles. “I can do that.”

 

 

The pizza place is two blocks away from the campus and overrun with students letting off steam on a Friday night. There isn’t a free seat in sight, never mind a table, so they move on to the adjacent bar where Stiles gorges himself on several portions of chicken wings and curly fries. The only difference to his younger self is the fact that he washes it all down with beer instead of soda. Derek doesn’t know if he should be amused or disgusted.

They manage to get a small round table with three stools and Stiles regales him with stories about his student life, which apparently consists of a lot of partying and arguing with the teaching staff over minor points in the curriculum. From time to time, some of Stiles’s friends turn up and take possession of the third seat to talk to him. Derek knows most of them by sight, but pretends he doesn’t. They all stay for a bit then drift back to whatever they were doing before, issuing invitations for Stiles to join them later.

The dealer’s name turns out to be Daniel, Stripes is called Michael and the goth is Charlie. As the evening progresses – and Stiles gets more and more drunk – he makes increasingly ludicrous introductions of Derek. ‘This is Derek, a...uhm… friend of mine’ soon becomes ‘this is Miguel/Constantine/Maximilian/Eugene’, ‘my cousin/aroma-therapist/weapon’s dealer/CIA handler’. Derek just raises his eyebrows at his antics and remains silent. He doesn’t really know why all this makes him concerned. Stiles seems happy enough and there doesn’t appear to be any danger. Everything’s fine. But usually when he has to remind himself of that, it means that everything’s not fine.

A drunken Stiles is not much different from a sober Stiles in that there’s a lot of talking and even more gesticulating. Every now and then he touches Derek’s arm as if he didn’t have his undivided attention already. In the beginning he always withdraws his hand hastily but less so later on. Every touch makes Derek feel like his skin is sizzling at the point of contact.

They leave when they’re accosted by Thomas, or rather Derek is. From close up he looks younger than from a distance, most likely a freshman. His blond hair is standing in all directions like he’s run his hands through it too many times and he’s somewhat the worse for wear.

“So you’re the new guy,” he says, slurring his words a little. “Don’t expect too much, my friend. Stiles doesn’t _do_ relationships. By my estimation you’re number twenty-nine. And there’ll probably be another twenty-nine after you.”

Derek slides off his stool to emphasize his height, which makes the guy step back, looking satisfyingly intimidated. “I am _not_ your friend and you’d do well to go back to where you came from.”

Thomas ducks his head then steps sideways so he can address Stiles. “You’re into older guys now? Looking for a sugar daddy? Need even more of a free ride than you’re already getting?”

Stiles stares at him with a horrified expression. “You’re drunk, Thomas, go home,” he says as if he wasn’t in the same state.

“You dumped me,” Thomas accuses loudly before he suddenly launches himself at Stiles. “Why would you do that? We were special.”

He doesn’t get very far because Derek has easily blocked his way forward and grabs him around the waist, lifting him up and carrying him out the door. He gives him a little push, careful not to make him fall over. In the condition the guy’s in, he’d probably have trouble getting back up again. “Go home. Sober up. And then rethink your life choices. If I catch you anywhere near Stiles again, you’ll regret it.”

Thomas glares at him, but Derek's already walking back into the bar where he’s approached by a member of staff.

“What seems to be the trouble?” the guy asks warily, trying to get a good look at Thomas through the glass front.

“No trouble. The kid was drunk. Tried to start a fight. I sorted it out. You should really cut these kids off before they get to that stage.”

“U-huh,” the guy says and looks pointedly towards their table, where Stiles has slid out of his seat and sways considerably as he’s coming towards them.

“ _He’s_ not the one making trouble,” Derek points out and rushes over to prop Stiles up on his way out. They take the other entrance, which leads into a quieter street at the back and Derek doesn’t want to let go but it’s obvious that Stiles does.

“I can walk.” He stumbles a little as he pulls away with more force than necessary but catches himself and manages to make his way down the road in a reasonably straight line. Derek sighs and catches up with him.

“It’s not twenty-nine,” Stiles mutters. “No way is it that many. There was Carol and Bailey and Frank… and Gabrielle and Mark and...” His words become more slurred and he stops, frowning and counting on his fingers. Then he looks at Derek. “Just because I can’t remember right now doesn’t mean it was that many,” he says accusingly. “I'm not a slut.”

“Nobody’s saying that,” Derek says soothingly.

“Thomas is.”

“Okay, nobody except Thomas is saying that. It doesn’t matter. If you sleep with one person or ten or a hundred, that just means you like sleeping with people. You’re not forcing anyone and unless you make them promises beforehand that you have no intention of keeping, then they’re making their own decisions.”

“I try so hard,” Stiles says more or less to himself and it makes Derek's heart clench how upset he looks, reminding him how he’s really not good with seeing Stiles anything but happy. “Every time… I try so hard. I go on dates and I try to like people and I _do_. I _do_ like them. It’s just not enough. Nothing’s ever enough. There’s always... I just miss...”

Derek tells himself that he’s not waiting with baited breath for the end of that sentence but it never comes. As much as he would like to see Stiles happy, he can’t help but wish that maybe Stiles misses him just a fraction of how much Derek misses him. After a few moments of silence, he nudges Stiles a little to make him start walking again and repeats, “You’re not a slut.” Just because every single person Stiles is close to hurts Derek to the core doesn’t mean what Stiles does is wrong.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**3.**

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER _

General impression:

As usual the subject arrives in good time. His greeting is friendly but distracted. He is wearing dark jeans and a dark sweater again, different ones from last week and he has stubble of at least a day. After a few minutes, he sheds his leather jacket for the first time.

 

Transcript from the session:

AW: So, Derek, how was your week?

DH: Okay.

AW: It seems to me that you’re a little preoccupied. Did something happen?

DH: Not really.

AW: Okay. What did you do at the weekend? Did you go fishing again?

DH: I was in Stanford.

AW: Stanford? Where your mate goes to college? Did you speak to him?

DH: Yes, I went to speak to him this time.

AW: _This_ time? You’ve been before?

DH: I go once or twice a month. Whenever no one else goes. His father visits him a lot and so does Scott. Scott McCall, he and Stiles are best friends.

AW: The other alpha in Beacon Hills and your mate are best friends? How does that work?

DH: Better now that Stiles doesn’t see me anymore, I assume. Scott and I... have problems.

AW: I can imagine with two alphas living in the same town.

DH: We had problems even when neither of us were alphas. He had a difficult initiation. There wasn’t really any pack in town when he was bitten. It was non-consensual. He struggled with it… a lot. I wasn’t... I wasn’t any help at the time. He blames me for a lot of stuff.

AW: And what do you blame him for?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): There were some things he did. He’s very stubborn. Sometimes it seems like he prefers hunters to other werewolves. I just don’t get it. And he’s so naive and trusting.

AW: Like you were?

DH: ... yeah.

AW: The traits we dislike most in other people are often the ones we have or had ourselves. Like a reformed smoker will sometimes become a zealous advocate against smoking.

DH: Maybe.

AW: So how does Stiles fit into all this? You were together how long?

DH: Eight months.

AW: And he remained friends with McCall during that time?

DH: Very much so. Nothing will break those two apart.

AW: Do you wish something would?

DH: What? No! I don’t want that for Stiles. He loves Scott. I don’t want him to be unhappy. He was always upset when we were together. I mean, when I had dealings with Scott, he was always stuck in the middle. He must have hated it.

AW: But that wasn’t your responsibility, was it? Stiles is old enough to be your mate, he’s old enough to decide how to negotiate his own relationships, with you as much as with all the other people in his life. Or do you blame the antagonism between you and McCall for the break-up?

DH ( _sarcastically_ ): No, I managed to fuck that up all by my little self.

AW: How?

DH: ... ( _shrugs_ )

AW: How, Derek? What happened?

DH: I don’t want to talk about that. That’s not why I'm here.

AW: Why _are_ you here?

DH: To get rid of my past. To move on.

AW: Your past is part of you, Derek. You can only ever understand it and make your peace with it. And if you’re finding it hard to move on from Stiles, you’ll have to talk about him. There’s no other way.

DH: Stiles isn’t the problem. It’s all the other stuff from my past that got in the way. I don’t want that to happen again.

AW: Are you hoping to get back with Stiles?

DH: _No_... no, I just... if I ever find someone else, I don’t want it to happen again.

AW: I see. So let’s talk about something else then.

 

When prompted the subj. talks freely about his relationship with Kate Argent. They met when she hit him with her car (he thought accidentally at the time but is now certain that it was on purpose) and then insisted on spending time with him afterwards “to make sure he was okay”. From there, the subj. developed an infatuation with a woman who was some years his senior and very attractive in a highly sexualized way. He acknowledges that a lot of the attraction derived from how different she was from Paige and from the forbidden nature of their relationship. It turned sexual after a few weeks, this being Derek's first sexual experience. Six weeks later, a group of hunters, led by K.A., set fire to his home, killing all but 2 (3) of his family.

For someone who considers his past life his “issues” that he needs to work through, subj. is surprisingly candid and calm when he relates these events. He still hates and fears K.A. in equal measures. (She is now deceased, killed by his uncle P.H.) He has given considerable thought to the psychology that may lead a teenage boy to start a relationship with an older, predatory woman. The guilt he feels over his actions is immense and he frequently refers to his teenage self as “stupid”, “naive” and “childish”. He is convinced that his family’s fate may have been avoided if he had told them about his relationship and blames his own stubbornness.

 

AW: How did your family treat you after Paige died?

DH: Better than I deserved.

AW: What did that look like in practice?

DH: Nobody ever mentioned it. I didn’t go to Paige’s funeral. I couldn’t. It was blamed on an animal attack and they thought she’d stumbled into the cave afterwards and broken her neck in a fall. Mom told her mother that I was too upset to go to the funeral. Which was true. I didn’t go to school for a month. And nobody ever mentioned her, at school or at home. People are _so_ considerate. Cora and Henry asked why my eyes were blue and my parents just said there’d been an accident. Nobody ever blamed me for anything.

AW: And did they treat you the same as before?

DH: Kind of but not really. They were always so careful around me. Careful of what they said, what mood I was in, as if _I_ was the victim. And they were overprotective. They started treating me like a child again. They wanted to know where I was at any given time and who I was with. And I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to be this fragile flower they made me out to be.

AW: And how did Kate treat you?

DH: Well, she didn’t know anything about Paige, I don’t think. She treated me like an equal, or so I thought at the time. Obviously she was in charge because she was older, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like she was the only one who trusted me not to do anything stupid. Of course, that’s exactly what she wanted me to do, something stupid, like talking about my home and family to her. I was just glad that there was someone who didn’t pity me.

AW: So you weren’t really the stupid teenager you described to me. Instead you were a vulnerable young man who was given the opportunity to break free from a very restrictive role you’d been assigned by your family which didn’t suit you.

DH ( _is silent for almost a minute, then in a shaky voice_ ): I am _not_ going to blame my family for what happened. That’s not... they loved me and were worried about me. That’s all.

AW: Nobody’s apportioning any blame, except to Kate, who’s very much the culprit. What I'm trying to say is that the picture you’ve painted of yourself as “stupid” and “weak” may not be accurate. There were other factors in play. Your state of mind at the time was the result of an extremely traumatic event in your life and its aftermath. There’s no way you or your family had adjusted to that by the time Kate came on the scene.

DH ( _looks at the floor_ ): ...

AW: Kate used you. You know that. But the circumstances were exceptional even before she arrived. This wasn’t something inherent in your character but rather something that happened _to_ you. She just exploited that. Maybe she did know about Paige. You have no way of knowing. And even if she didn’t, you were starved for someone who didn’t know about your past, and she took advantage of that. She was older than you and a hunter. She would have been more manipulative than an ordinary person. You never stood a chance.

DH ( _doesn’t look up_ ): I should have told my parents.

AW: And risk losing the only person who treated you without kid gloves, which was something that you needed at the time? Best case scenario would have been that they accepted her and told her about Paige. At worst they’d have her arrested for statutory rape.

DH ( _winces visibly_ ): ...

AW: You _are_ aware that that’s what she did?

DH ( _heated_ ): Of course I am.

AW: Then tell me why that term makes you so uncomfortable. Men can get abused, too. There’s no shame in it.

DH: I know… Stiles was seventeen when we first had sex. He turned eighteen a month after we split up.

AW: I see. And you feel that the situation was somehow comparable?

DH: The law says it was. I was twenty-three.

AW: And you targeted Stiles because there was something you wanted from him? Or _because_ he was so young?

DH: What? Of course not! I didn’t target him at all. We just kind of grew together. If anything, he came after me. But I was the adult in the relationship and it was my responsibility to do the right thing.

AW: Did his parents know about you two?

DH: His mother died when he was young. But his dad knew.

AW: How did he find out?

DH: I told him.

AW: Why? You ran the risk of him putting a stop to it, especially since he’s the sheriff.

DH: I’d promised him that I had no sexual intentions towards his son, so I felt obligated to inform him when that changed. I actually thought there was a possibility that he’d stop us.

AW: Why didn’t he, in your opinion?

DH ( _huffs_ ): You haven’t met Stiles. He’s a force of nature. I doubt even his father could stop him from doing anything he puts his mind to.

AW: That may be true. Some parents are very ineffective. But he could very easily have stopped _you_.

DH: You assume that he trusted me enough even then to stop if he said so.

AW: That’s one possibility. But he _is_ the sheriff. All he had to do was arrest you. Not very difficult in his position, don’t you think?

DH: …True, but Stiles would have given him hell.

AW: And is the sheriff the type of person who would risk his son’s well-being just to remain in his good books?

DH ( _pensive_ ): Not really.

AW: So let me ask you another question: when you told him of your intentions, were you hoping he would stop you?

DH: What? No. By that stage I was already involved with Stiles. I didn’t want it to stop.

AW: Are you sure?

DH: Very.

AW: Okay. So you had tacit permission from the sheriff to date his teenage son. When did you say you became friends?

DH: After Stiles left for Stanford.

AW: Why do you think he didn’t put a stop to it?

DH: Like I said, Stiles gets what he wants.

AW: You make him sound spoiled.

DH: He’s hardly that. He’s been through a lot in his life already with his mom dying when he was a kid and then his best friend becoming a werewolf. He’s just… tenacious.

AW: I would very much like to meet him.

DH: Absolutely not.

AW: Why not?

DH: He’s done with all that. I don’t want him to feel he should talk to you because he thinks I need it.

AW: Is that your only objection?

DH: I don’t know. But even just asking him would make him feel obligated. I don’t want to put him in that position.

AW: Okay. Is there another person I could speak to so that I can get a more rounded picture of you?

DH: Like who? I haven’t told anyone that I’m coming here. I’m not telling any of my betas. It would undermine my position. And I don’t know anyone else.

AW: What about Stiles’s father then? Would you feel comfortable asking him?

DH ( _huffs_ ): Comfortable? Hardly, but I guess… he’d be okay. He might say yes and it wouldn’t be too embarrassing to ask him.

AW: In that case, could you ask him to contact me? Naturally I won’t tell him anything you’ve said here. I simply want to hear his opinion of you. And he has insight into your mate as well. He’d be a good candidate. Thank you for allowing me to speak to him.

 

General session notes:

Subj. is full of loathing for his younger self and his past actions. He considers them due to inherent character flaws like ‘weakness’ and ‘stupidity’. His relationship with K.A. is quite clear in his mind and his reactions of fear and anger are appropriate. He is surprisingly calm when talking about it. He has internalized his guilt and identified K.A. clearly as morally reprehensible. All these are signs that he has worked through this episode in his life to some extent. However, it left him with a deep mistrust not just of other people but also of himself.

The subj. has taken the one similarity of his relationship with K.A. (the age difference) and applied this to his own relationship with his mate, subsequently transferring all of K.A.’s characteristics to himself and all of the characteristics of his younger self onto his mate. Whether Stiles fits the criteria remains to be seen. Derek certainly does not.

Subj. has given permission to speak to his mate’s father, which speaks to the trust he places in the man. For Derek to allow someone to know that he is seeking help is a big step and it will be interesting to know what insight Mr. Stilinski has.

 

Note for future sessions:

Subj. is extremely protective of his mate. It is the one point that always agitates him. It would be very beneficial to speak to Stiles himself but so far subj. has forbidden it. Keep up the pressure to make Stiles part of the sessions.

      

*** * * * ***

 

Derek allows himself the hour of his drive home to come to a decision. As incredible as it is to him in hindsight, he has given Dr. Winter permission to speak to the sheriff about him. What was he thinking? That’s such a ludicrously bad idea, really, _really_ bad and ludicrous. However, when he’s in that room and talking about his past, he’s so determined to make progress that he’s willing to try anything.

He hasn’t told anyone that he’s going to therapy. As the alpha he needs to show strength at all times especially now that he has a growing pack and a position in the werewolf community to maintain. If his betas knew, they might actually be supportive but their pity would eat him alive. And it doesn’t even bear thinking about that Peter or Scott would find out. He'd never live down their disdain.

There’s still time to stop this. He can go home and never go back to Dr. Winter. What is he hoping to achieve anyway? Does he think he will miraculously turn into a happy, well-adjusted person at the end of it? Will his past suddenly no longer be important? Will he be feeling less guilty, less of a failure, less pessimistic? Will Stiles suddenly regret leaving him and come back? He knows none of that is going to happen. It would be better to just give up now and no one will be any the wiser.

At the end of his journey, he parks his car in the by now familiar parking lot and enters the equally familiar adjacent building. The woman behind the reception desk just makes a gesture for him to carry on down the corridor without interrupting her phone conversation. He barely returns her smile, he’s too preoccupied with what he has to do. When he reaches the open office door, he hesitates, before lightly tapping the door jamb.

Looking up from his computer, the sheriff gives him a surprised look. “Derek. Anything wrong?”

Derek shakes his head. “I need a favor.”

“Sure. Come in. Shut the door.”

He does as he’s told and stands over by the window with his arms crossed, leaning against the sill. It feels almost like _his_ spot by now. In the past three years he’s become a semi-official consultant for the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department and goes in and out of the station on a regular basis when his expertise is required. He imagines that the other deputies probably think he’s a psychic – or a fraud, depending on their disposition – and have their boss down as a crackpot. Only Jordan Parrish is in on what’s really going on in the town.

“So what can I do for you?” the sheriff says, swiveling in his chair to face him.

Internally, Derek’s already cursing himself for coming here. He’ll lose this man’s respect if he tells him he’s in therapy and respect once lost is twice as hard to regain. “I spoke to Stiles at the weekend,” he blurts out instead.

The sheriff nods. “Yes, I know. He called me and told me he’ll be home at the weekend to help you with something. He wasn’t very specific.”

“I need an emissary for these negotiations with the Moretti pack. Strictly speaking, I could probably do it myself, but it’ll strengthen our position if we have a traditional pack.”

“Makes sense. Stiles was quite adamant that he wanted to do this.” Worry for his son is clearly evident in his voice.

Derek is glad that people worry not just about him when he and Stiles have contact. It makes it a little less mortifying that everyone treats him like a piece of delicate china that could break at any moment whenever his mate is mentioned.

“So how was he?”

It takes Derek a few minutes to recount his weekend. He plays down the fact that Stiles was drunk, both on Friday and on Saturday night, but the rest is pretty accurate. They spent all weekend together, with Stiles showing him around the campus and the town like he was a tourist. He dozed in Stiles’s desk chair while Stiles was passed out on the bed. For Derek the whole weekend veered between the _miracle_ of spending time with Stiles as if they were friends and the sheer _hell_ of spending time with Stiles as if they were friends. He thought he was prepared to meet him. He has been watching him over the years after all, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Turns out that seeing someone from a distance and having that someone be aware of you are two completely different ball games.

“Well, I’m glad he got shot of Thomas. That guy was such a pain.”

Derek just nods. He doubts that his opinions on Stiles’s boyfriends can be classed as unbiased.

“And are you okay?” the sheriff asks after a while. “It’s been a long time since you two spoke.”

“Everything’s fine,” Derek assures him. “We’re both adults.”

“Yes and so incredibly mature, the both of you,” comes the mocking reply.

Derek smiles. “Everything’s fine,” he repeats. “Anyway I just wanted to let you know.” He straightens and takes a couple of steps towards the door.

“Good to know. Thank you. Now… what favor did you want?”

Derek stops, contemplates lying, then says without turning around, “I’ve been seeing a councilor. I was wondering if you’d go and speak to her. She wants to know about me from someone else or something like that.” There’s a prolonged pause and Derek finally looks back to see the sheriff staring at him open-mouthed. “You don’t have to, obviously.”

“I didn’t know you were talking to someone.”

“Yeah, that would be because I didn’t tell anyone. Forget it. It’s fine.”

“No, I’m glad you’re going. You should have done it a long time ago. It’s a miracle you’re even functioning after what you’ve been through, never mind being so well-adjusted. I’m honored that you thought of me. I’ll be happy to go. Just give her my number and she can call me to make an appointment.”

Derek tries not to get overwhelmed by the sincerity. Sometimes Stilinski reminds him of his own father and it’s not easy because as heart-warming as it is, it’s also upsetting at the same time, especially right now when he’s been talking and thinking about his parents a lot. He swallows and fumbles Dr. Winter’s card from his jeans pocket, smoothing it instinctively before he hands it over. “Here’s her number. She said to call her.”

“Okay, I can do that.” The sheriff puts the card on his desk. “How does this even work? I mean, how can she help you if you can’t tell her you’re a… you know.” He never mentions the word ‘werewolf’ in the office, where the walls have ears, according to him.

“She used to be an emissary. She’s actually quite well-known in the community.”

“Oh, I see. So I can be completely candid with her?”

“That’s the idea. And thanks.”

The sheriff gives him a long look before he nods solemnly. “You’re welcome, son.” Then he gets up and walks Derek out of the station. When they get to Derek's car, he adds, “So are you prepared for me trash talking you behind your back?”

Feeling instantly relieved by the lightening of the tone, Derek playfully shoulder-bumps him as he walks past. “As if there’s anything bad to say about me.”

Stilinski grins. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

 

 

It’s one of those rare weekday evenings when every member of the pack is home and Derek takes the opportunity to bring them all up to speed while they’re having dinner. “I had a letter from Alpha Moretti on Friday.” He grabs it from the shelf and reads it out to them. _“Alpha Hale, this is a formal request for a consultation regarding your pack member Tabitha Curnock. We propose noon of the second Tuesday after the last full moon as a date and agree to your territory as the venue. Our party will consist of myself, two betas and our emissary. Please state your terms should they differ from the proposal or otherwise expect us at the allotted time. Alpha Moretti.”_

There is a solemn silence before Isaac, who’s feeding the baby on his lap, asks, “What do they want to discuss about Tabby?”

That earns him an elbow in the ribs from Cal, who hates the nickname, followed by the familiar, “She’s not a cat, Lahey.”

Isaac oomphes theatrically.

“I assume they want to discuss access,” Derek says.

“They can’t have it.” Valeska’s voice is fierce and her eyes glow yellow.

“We’ve no idea what they have in mind,” he reassures her. “They might just want to visit her occasionally. But whatever it is, I promise you they won’t take her away.”

Somewhat mollified, Valeska tucks into her lasagna.

“So what do we need to do?” Cora asks. “Is it any different from normal?”

“Not really, but I did spend the weekend securing us an emissary, just in case.” He tries to ignore the ominous pause that follows his statement by concentrating on eating his food.

Finally Isaac pipes up again. “You mean Stiles, right? Stiles is our emissary?” He doesn’t sound too sure about that.

“Yes, Isaac, Stiles is our emissary. And he’s agreed to help us out.”

“So you were in Stanford at the weekend?” Cora says accusingly.

“Yes.”

“Why would you do something so stupid?”

He levels a long stare at her until she ducks her head just a little. Of all his betas, she’s the most difficult to control. It shouldn’t matter but he’s glad she doesn’t know that he’s been to Stanford many times before. “We need an emissary and Stiles is it.”

“Great,” Cora harrumphs, scraping her fork across the plate with a screech when she digs a little too forcefully into her food.

“You will all treat him with respect,” Derek commands, looking at each of them in turn until they nod.

“Is he going to stay with us for the duration?” Cal asks.

“I doubt it. He’s probably going to stay with his father or maybe even Scott.” The other alpha now has his own apartment near the vet surgery, where he’s been training since he left school. It’s one of the main reasons Isaac moved out of the McCall house and back with his pack – that and the fact that there now actually _is_ a pack.

“Thank god for small mercies,” Cora mutters.

The others duck their heads while Derek glares at his sister. Cora is smart enough not to look up.

 

 

When Derek returns from his nightly run, the house is in darkness. Ever since the pack moved back into the preserve, Derek has felt calmer. This is where he belongs, where he’s meant to be. It also helps that Stiles has never actually lived here. It’s true that there are parts of the house that remind Derek of him. The rooms are laid out according to plans he drew up when they were together and Stiles had considerable input, but there’s no scent. What little there was has been covered over by pack and no longer has the capacity to disquiet Derek in any way.

Now he’s anticipating having Stiles in the house and the apprehension that comes with that makes him more unsettled than he’s been in a long time. He likes to run. He always did. It’s the best exercise he knows, liberating for the human part as much as the wolf part in him. But when he’s troubled, he _needs_ to run. It’s a coping mechanism and he doesn’t think much of it when he runs for hours three nights in a row. He saw Stiles at the weekend. It’s natural that he needs to find his equilibrium after that.

He’s been trying not to think about how much maturity suits Stiles. He looked beautiful in a whole new way. There was still that anxiety that he always had pretty much constantly, no longer tempered by medication but by strange rituals, which may not be immediately apparent to someone who doesn’t know him well. But Derek saw the armband made from rainbow colored rubber that Stiles twanged whenever he got too twitchy and the rolling in of the lips followed by a brief biting of his lower lip. On the whole Stiles seemed to have it under control. Derek found it strangely disconcerting not to find the slightly bitter undertones of Adderall in his scent any longer. But the rest was reassuringly familiar. Or maybe it was the _familiarity_ that was disconcerting him.

Whatever is was, he feels the need to run, longer and further than he normally does, and he’s grateful that it’s the middle of the week, so no one from his pack wants to accompany him. The solitude works wonders.

When he returns, he enters the house quietly, routinely assessing where everyone is. Isaac is in his room, Cal and Valeska are in theirs with their daughter. Only Cora’s still up or rather up again because she was in bed when he left.

“You were out for three hours,” she says from where she’s sitting in the corner of the couch with her legs stretched out across the other seats.

“I am aware,” he says, staying in the doorway to the living room with his arms folded. It’s dark but neither one of them needs light.

“You haven’t run this much since the beginning.”

He knows what she means: the beginning of him being alone. Right after Stiles left, Derek ran every night, sometimes all night. He doesn’t ask how she would know that when she was away at college at the time. It seems that everyone was watching him then to see how he‘d react. He likes to think that he didn’t react much outwardly. He re-built the house during the day and ran at night. He got through it until it was no longer like a bleeding wound in his chest and more like a scar that hurt and itched at the most inopportune times, a numbing rather than a healing. Still, it never really disappeared, it just became manageable.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because no one can fuck you up like Stiles can.”

“Really?” he asks with a steely undertone.

“Hey, Kate fucked you over. But she never fucked you up. Only Stiles can do that and he doesn’t even need to do anything, just be in your life.”

“He’s not in my life.” And isn’t that the whole problem? “I asked him for help and he agreed. He’ll come and take part in the negotiations and then he’ll leave again.”

“And then what? You’ll go running until you kill yourself? Why are you doing this to yourself? We don’t need him.”

He can hear the worry lacing the anger in her voice. “I’ll be fine. I’m not taking any chances with these negotiations. We’re stronger with an emissary. Would you rather I asked Deaton?”

“At least I don’t want to _kill_ Deaton.”

“Cora,” he says as calmly as he can. “This is _my_ decision. When you see Stiles, you will be polite and respectful as befits your alpha’s mate.”

“What?” she blusters. “He hasn’t been anywhere near you for nearly four years and you want me to treat him like your _mate_? Newsflash, Derek, he doesn’t want to be, so he lost that right.”

Derek tries not to flinch, then uses his alpha voice to command, something he’s perfected over time. “Stiles will always be your alpha’s mate unless you wish to leave the pack.”

Cora shrinks a little in her seat, instinctively pulling up her legs and ducking her head. “Okay, okay.” Her voice retains small traces of defiance more indicative of being a worried sister than an insubordinate beta. That will never change. Finally she adds in a much softer voice, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He smiles wanly, acknowledging her concern with a nod. Then he bids her a good night and goes up to bed.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**4.**

 

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER _

 

General impression:

This week’s second subject is a human male in his late forties. He is dressed in a police uniform, having driven over straight after work, apologizing for his attire. He looks well-groomed if a little tired. His hair is cut short and he is clean shaven. After my session with Derek on Monday, Stilinski surprised me by calling early the very next morning to make an appointment.

 

Known background:

Stilinski is the elected sheriff of Beacon Hills and has been for several years. He was widowed over a decade ago and has not formed any ( _? lasting?_ ) relationships since then. He has 1 child, who is commonly known as Stiles and is Derek’s mate. Over the last 4 years he has formed a friendship with Derek that is intriguing due to the age difference and the fact that his son and Derek are no longer in a relationship. I am curious what prompted him to befriend Derek after that.

 

Transcript from the recording:

AW: Thank you for doing this.

SS: No problem. Anything I can do to help.

AW: I want to reassure you that nothing you say here today will get back to Derek. He’s agreed to you giving him a character reference, if you want to call it that, to let me form a more rounded picture of him, but I told him that what you’re telling me is as confidential as what he tells me.

SS: I don’t have a problem with Derek knowing what I say about him, but I need to know if what I tell you is confidential in the legal sense… since I’m not your patient.

AW: It is. I’m a registered psychiatrist and for the duration of our session you have the same rights and protection as any patient.  

SS: Good…

AW: Can you tell me a little about the first time you met Derek?

SS: Well, we didn’t meet as such. It was on the day of the fire – you know about the Hale fire? It was in the afternoon. Sheriff Baker, my predecessor, brought Derek in from school. Derek was just sixteen at the time and unsurprisingly he was completely devastated, almost catatonic. He just sat there, staring into space for hours. We were trying to find some relatives for him, anyone who could take him in and support him. When we eventually located his older sister, she was already on her way. She must have known something was wrong. I suppose her eyes changed or something. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. She took over a day to arrive, with getting a flight from New York and what not. I saw her once or twice afterwards, for paperwork and to complain that nothing was being done to find the cause of the fire. Pretty girl, way too young to shoulder so much responsibility but extremely capable.

AW: Where was Derek during the time before she arrived? 

SS: That’s just the thing… you have to understand that I was in a bad place at the time. After my wife died I wasn’t coping well for a long, _long_ time afterwards, so I wasn’t paying much attention. To be honest he reminded me of Stiles – my son – after his mother died, so I suppose I didn’t really want to get involved. Baker took Derek away and that was the end of it for me. I found out later that Baker took him to the hospital of all places. We left a sixteen year old boy, who had just lost his home and almost all of his family, in a hospital room with a comatose uncle, who looked like a mummy with a bunch of tubes sticking out! To this day I can’t believe we did that. We really failed him that day. Poor kid.

AW: Is that how you see him? As a child?

SS: Nowadays? Not at all. He’s a lot younger than me so I suppose I do feel a little fatherly at times but, believe you me, his knowledge far outweighs mine. He’s invaluable to my work and I have a lot of respect for him, not least because of what happened to him when he was young. To come back from that… I had a hard enough time coming back from losing my wife. I don’t think I would have made it without Stiles. I certainly wouldn’t be sheriff. Derek’s so… tough.

AW: Tough?

SS: Well, let’s say resilient. He and Stiles have that in common.

AW: What else do they have in common?

SS: Not a lot. At least not on the surface. Like chalk and cheese they are. But they’re both loyal to a fault. Suspicious of anything new. With a big heart they’re hiding in different ways.

AW: You love them both.

SS: ... Yes, I suppose I do. Stiles will always be my kid and nothing compares. But Derek comes a close second. In many ways he’s easier to deal with than Stiles. I used to feel the same way about Scott, but I don’t see much of him anymore. Scott – you know about Scott McCall? – was almost like a second son, he and Stiles were so close. Derek’s more of a friend. I could never be friends with Scott. Too many memories from when he was a snotty kid.

AW: I see. So how did you become friends? When did you see Derek next?

SS: The next time I saw him was when I arrested him.

AW: You arrested him?

SS: His sister was killed when she came back to Beacon Hills. We found half her body in the woods. And then Stiles and Scott found the other half buried next to the Hale house and we all jumped to conclusions. Derek had found her and buried her. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to find your sister’s mutilated body and to be so alone and hunted and afraid that you bury her by yourself.

AW: You have a lot of empathy for Derek.

SS: I do. One of my overwhelming feelings when I think about Derek is that he deserved better. He still does. If anyone thinks they have it rough, looking at Derek's life will put it all into perspective. And yet he managed to maintain his humanity somehow. He didn’t go off the deep end. He didn’t turn into a psychopath like his uncle did and in all that he found it in him to look out for Scott and Stiles, who were just stumbling about in the dark, making his life a lot harder.

AW: Who did kill his sister?

SS: Their uncle Peter Hale. He lured her to Beacon Hills to kill her so he could take her alpha power to cure himself of his injuries. I mean who does that? Kill their own family for power? I eventually let Derek go when the coroner said she was killed by an animal. Man, did I feel bad about arresting him. And then Scott told me that Derek was responsible for the killing spree in town when that was down to Peter as well. To be honest, I didn’t believe it, but I had to put an APB out for Derek, so he was hunted _again._ Luckily that was cleared up soon enough as well. It’s a miracle Derek and Stiles ever got together with the way they started out. But apparently there was some mutual life-saving as well. The less I know about that the better. My heart can’t take it. Luckily I didn’t become aware of a lot of things until long after the fact.

AW: What came first for you, knowing about werewolves or knowing about Derek and Stiles?

SS: Werewolves. At first I didn’t believe it. I mean, _come on_ , werewolves? _Really?_ And Stiles never had a good track record with telling the truth, always spinning tales, even when he was little. But I saw some things that convinced me and it explained a lot, I mean, _a lot._ Then, a little while later, Stiles wanted to go away for the weekend with Scott and Derek. So I spoke to Derek and he promised me that he’d look out for them and that he had – how did he put it again? – no _unsavory_ intentions towards Stiles. I was concerned, yes, but Derek, when he’s sincere, has something utterly convincing about him. I’d trust him with my life. There aren’t many people I can say that about. And what’s more, I’d trust him with Stiles’s life. I did then and still do now.

AW: Do you think he lied to you about his intentions?

SS: No. I believe that he was sincere when he said it or at least that he believed it. I can well imagine Stiles setting his sights on him and steamrolling him into a relationship. The kid’s quite obsessive. He had a crush on this girl in high school for years. She wasn’t interested but he never gave up, even if it was only from the distance. I don’t think she knew he existed before all the werewolf shenanigans started. Which is good because if he’d pestered her, I would have read him the riot act. I take a very dim view of stalking. I assume that when he fell in love with Derek, he was just lucky that Derek felt the same way and after that Derek never stood a chance.

AW: Were you concerned?

SS: I had words with Stiles at some point early on but to be honest when I saw them together I knew that Stiles was calling all the shots. I actually felt kind of sorry for Derek. He came to me to tell me that his feelings had changed, that he wanted to be with Stiles. If you’d seen him that day, you wouldn’t’ve had any concerns either. He looked… almost lost, like he couldn’t believe he was doing this, not just talking to me but the whole thing with Stiles. He looked totally overwhelmed and out of his depth and scared. But happy at the same time, you know, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Poor kid. I knew exactly how he felt. I was the same with my wife. And I knew then I didn’t have to worry about Stiles. I said the usual stuff about how I’d end him if he hurt Stiles but it would probably have been better if I’d told him to be careful instead.

AW: Careful of Stiles?

SS: Not of Stiles per se. Stiles was very much in love, too, so I had no concerns there. It was just… Derek wasn’t really equipped to deal with emotions. He had – has – so much baggage, I don’t know how he was even capable of having a functioning relationship. I didn’t see much of him. He once told me that it was awkward meeting me. He was such a boy in some respects, always called me _Sir_. But the way he looked at Stiles… it was as if Stiles had hung the moon and the sun and the stars for him. I really thought they’d be together forever, that even if they had fights, that love would see them through. Because Stiles wasn’t much better. But that just goes to show that sometimes love isn’t enough. It was heart-breaking when they split up. But it didn’t come as a great surprise to me that _Stiles_ broke up with _him_. Derek would never have done it.

AW: Why did they break up?

SS: No idea. Stiles wouldn’t talk about it, just said Derek didn’t _see_ him, whatever that’s supposed to mean. And I never asked Derek. Some things are private. It was hard enough seeing them afterward anyway. The pain was so tangible. On both sides.

AW: So how did you become friends in the end?

SS: Stiles left for college. He’s at Stanford now. There was always stuff going on in town, supernatural stuff, so I asked Derek for help. I could’ve asked Scott, I suppose, but Derek had more knowledge and showed more interest. Scott only gets involved when he has to or when his friends’ lives are in danger. He’s a nice kid but not much help. He just reacts. Derek’s more proactive. So Derek and I worked a few cases and then things changed between us. We were more like colleagues. But most of our meetings were outside the office, so it often led to having a drink afterward or a bite to eat. And then eventually, as we got to know each other, we started meeting even when there wasn’t a case. I introduced him to fishing and that was that.

AW: What does Stiles think of your friendship?

SS: He doesn’t know as such. I was worried that he might find it disloyal of me, so I mentioned it only as an aside. Stiles has no idea how close Derek and I really are. It’s gonna be interesting when he comes home. But then again, he might never come home. Who would come back to Beacon Hills after Stanford?

 

When prompted, Stilinski talks happily about his son, to whom he is very close. Stiles was diagnosed with ADHD aged 5. His mother, Claudia, a school councilor, had her own ideas about treatment and coped very well with the condition. She was able to guide Stiles while she was alive, practically spending all her free time teaching him coping techniques. It was only when she was diagnosed with fronto-temporal dementia that they started Stiles on Adderall. C.S. died when he was 10 years old. Stilinski almost breaks down when he recounts her death and the fact that Stiles was alone with her when she died. Despite counseling, Stiles subsequently suffered from panic attacks while Stilinski freely admits to a drinking problem (for a matter of years rather than weeks or months). However he remained highly functioning, sometimes with the aid of S.M.’s mother, with whom he developed a friendship and mutually beneficial arrangement concerning their sons. (M.M. and C.S. were longtime friends.)

Stiles has always been inquisitive and spent a lot of his childhood at the police station. The relationship between father and son became strained when S.M. became a werewolf. Stiles became more secretive while at the same time getting caught in more and more suspicious situations, where he would give obviously false explanations. At some point Stilinski was suspended as a result of his son’s actions. After he was let in on the secret, their relationship became stronger again. Stilinski is concerned that his son takes on too much of a parenting role and always has. Despite their excellent rapport he worries that he should have been a better father.

 

AW: If you had to describe Derek with one word, what would that be?

SS: Hhm… guarded. He is wary of new people, of change and he has good reason. You have to _earn_ his trust and his affection. But once you’ve got it, he’s like a rock.

AW: Have you seen him around his pack? What is he like with them?

SS: I’m obviously not a werewolf. And the only comparison I have is Scott, who has a pack of sorts but it's more casual. Scott seems happy enough to let Derek do all the work. They work together when it’s necessary but if Scott can get away with it, he likes to keep out of things. Derek’s more hands on. He’s like the guardian of Beacon Hills. He does what I do, just for the werewolf stuff. And for that he’s constantly training his pack. I’m pretty sure they’re the fittest werewolves you’ve ever seen. They work well together, too. I've seen them in action. But Derek is… he’s very much responsible for them and he never forgets that. Nor does he ever let them forget it. I’ve seen him comfort them and care for them when they’re injured or upset but apart from maybe his sister, he’s still that little bit removed. And his pack… I don’t know if he’s even aware of it, but they adore him. Every one of them would do absolutely anything for him.

AW: You think, he may not know?

SS ( _shrugs_ ): You’ve met him. Derek doesn’t think anything he does is ever good enough. He doesn’t believe that anyone likes him for who he is. And if people are nice to him, it only makes him wonder what they want from him.

AW: And what do you want from him? What does his friendship mean to you?

SS: Derek’s my best friend. I like him. I trust him. After Stiles he’s the most important person in my life right now. I don’t really have any other friends – except Melissa and with both of us working shifts, we don’t see much of each other, now that our kids have moved out. Relationships are difficult with my job unless you’re friends with colleagues and then you just talk shop all the time. I’m very much aware how lucky I am that I have this friendship with Derek. My life would be very unbalanced otherwise with my son being away. But even if he came home, I don’t think anything would change. Derek and I are pretty solid by now.

AW: What do you think Derek gets out of it?

SS: You’d have to ask him that.

AW: Fair enough. How do you think Stiles will react when he finds out?

SS: It’s not a great secret. Stiles just avoids talking about Derek, so I don’t mention him. When – _if_ – he comes home for good, we’ll have to make adjustments. Quite frankly I can’t see the three of us hanging out shooting the breeze, but it will be a compromise for _all_ of us, not just Derek.

AW: You don’t think Derek and Stiles can be friends?

SS: They’re many things, even friends in a way, but they’ll never be friends like Derek and I are friends or Scott and Stiles are.

AW: Why not?

SS ( _shrugs_ ): Too much baggage. On both sides. Like I said, I don’t know exactly what went wrong, but if either one of them’s over it, I’ll eat my hat.

AW: Has Stiles not had any relationships since?

SS ( _huffs_ ): Try _dozens_ of them. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble finding people, but he’s kind of a serial monogamist. None of his relationships has lasted more than two weeks except the last one and I suspect that’s only because the guy turned into a bit of a stalker.

AW: If I could persuade Derek to agree, do you think Stiles would talk to me?

SS: You won’t persuade Derek.

AW: You seem very certain.

SS: I am. Derek would never bother Stiles with his problems. He’s always been very protective of him.

AW: I see. And Stiles?

SS: Would move heaven and earth, if he thought it would help Derek. Even now.

 

General session notes:

Stilinski is a pleasant, articulate and observant man. He has formed a firm friendship with Derek, which he appears to be willing to uphold even against his son’s wishes should it become necessary. He also has a secure and loving relationship with his son albeit strained in some undefined way he may not even be aware of. It is hoped that he will be able to provide Derek with support in the future, which has the added advantage for Derek that it is independent of his pack and anyone else in the werewolf community, giving him an outlet from his responsibilities. Because of his seniority, Stilinski also provides a paternal influence in Derek's life that was missing after his family died. As such their relationship flourishes on several different levels to the benefit of both, while Stilinski’s maturity provides a lasting stability that a younger man may not be able to sustain.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Derek is having breakfast with Isaac and Cal before they’re going to work some more on the road through the woods. It’s Saturday morning and Allison’s just left after spending the night. Despite his best efforts, Derek can never completely shift the last remnants of feeling uncomfortable around her. Allison doesn’t seem to fare much better with him either and so her visits are often an exercise in politeness. She’s moved back in with her father after college and Chris Argent seems to have similar problems with Isaac even now. They’re all very civil to each other, trying for the sake of the young couple. Derek doesn’t envy them, although they somehow managed to weather three years in a long-distance relationship. He has quite forgiven the Argents for what they – or rather their relatives – did to his family. It is vital to him to believe in second chances. There has to be a way to come back from past mistakes and if he hopes that’s true for himself, then he has to allow the same for his enemies. But he can never quite forget the past, his own or how it intersects with theirs.

When he hears the jeep approaching, he has to make a concerted effort to keep his heart at a steady beat. _Really?_ After all this time, the sound of Stiles’s car gets him excited? He is so _pathetic_.

“Visitor,” his two betas say at the same time. Then Isaac crinkles his nose in confusion. “Stiles?”

Derek can’t help but be impressed with him for remembering after four years. He gives him a pleased smile that makes Isaac preen in an indistinct way, making his whole body beam with pride somehow.

Cal looks somewhere between alarmed and curious. She’s never met Stiles but has heard of him, of course. Derek doesn’t speak about him and shuts down any discussion as much as he can, but Cora is very vocal in her dislike whenever the subject comes up. In contrast, Isaac never voices much of an opinion other than acknowledging Stiles as pack and his alpha’s mate. He’s learned his lesson early on, when Derek set out his expectations regarding Stiles. Valeska keeps her ideas to herself but Derek suspects she’s heavily influenced by her upbringing and therefore considers a human mate beneath her alpha on principle. She’s getting better but still has some way to go unlearning her family’s bigotry.

Derek wants to stay cool and pretend Stiles’s arrival doesn’t affect him but nonetheless finds himself out on the veranda before the jeep even comes into view. The others are giving him space otherwise they would be out here with him. In general, they always greet visitors together as a show of strength. Only friends are allowed to approach without a welcoming committee. Stiles is hardly that to any of them except Isaac who has seen him from time to time when Stiles was home over the years.

The jeep is still the same color, now rusting through in places, where it’s been patched up in slightly different shades. The noise has not so much changed in tone as increased in volume. And there’s a faint rattling somewhere that’s new. When he pulls up onto the gravel area and stops the engine, Stiles raises his hand in greeting before he gets out, much like his father usually does. “Hey, there, Derek.”

Derek nods to him and doesn’t suppress the smile that forms on his face involuntarily. “Hey.” He stops himself from asking what he’s doing here – it’s still three days until the negotiations start – when Stiles drags a large duffle bag from the backseat and comes up to the veranda. “How was the drive?” Derek asks instead, eyeing the bag with a frown.

“Oh, I drove up yesterday. I spent the night at my house. Figured one night won’t make a difference. And Dad would kill me if I came home and not stay with him at least once. So here I am, all yours for the next fortnight. Brought my stuff so I can work on my essays, but I’ll have time to do other stuff, too. Nothing's due for another six weeks.”

Derek is still stuck on ‘ _all yours_ ’. “Uhm, we’re not expecting anyone till Tuesday.”

“Good. We’ve got a couple of days then.” Stiles drops his bag, which lands with a dull thud on the decking.

“For what?”

Frowning, Stiles makes a ‘duh’ face and then looks exasperated when Derek just raises his eyebrows in question. “What kind of a werewolf are you? _Scent_ , Derek. If you want to fool people into thinking I’m your emissary-slash-mate-slash-pack-member, the house needs to smell of me at least a little, right?”

“Right,” Derek says, drawing out the word to hide his surprise.

Stiles blinks, no longer full of upbeat confidence. “That was the plan, right?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, but it’s a good plan. You have to admit that. Surprise me then, what was your plan, o great alpha?” He sounds a little put out now, picking up his bag again as if he’s getting ready to leave. “If you even have a plan. Well, if you don’t want me here, why don’t you message me when you need me and I’ll obey like a good little soldier?”

When Derek easily grabs the bag off him, it turns out heavier than it looks. “It _is_ a good plan. Let’s do that.”

Stiles brightens immediately. “See. You know a good plan when you see it. Although this might be the first time you’re admitting that my plans are good.”

“ _Plan_ , Stiles, plan. Singular. I’m not admitting to anything in general, just this one tiny, little plan.” It feels good to slip back into their habitual banter as if no time has passed.

“Awww, don’t bother denying it. You’d be lost without my brains. I’ve no idea how you survived this long without me.”

Derek sighs dramatically. “It was hard, but I managed somehow.” Despite making it sound like a joke, he’s painfully aware that it’s simply the honest truth. He makes an inviting gesture towards the entrance and Stiles shoulder-bumps him as he walks past him into the house.

The next twenty minutes are taken up by Stiles admiring the new house. It wasn’t finished until long after they broke up and he’s never seen it. Knowing how quickly they can be lost, Derek ordinarily doesn’t set great store by material possessions, but he slips effortlessly into the role of proud home owner. It’s as if Stiles’s approval elevates the house to another level. And Stiles even notices little details he remembers seeing on the drawings and is complimentary about the execution of every single one of them. “You really surpassed all my imagination.”

Derek can’t help but beam at the praise. They’re alone downstairs and he appreciates that Isaac and Cal are being considerate. However, a minute later he can hear her padding along the landing on the second floor and then down the stairs.

“Sorry,” she says a little sheepishly when she gets to the bottom, but she has a fretting Tabitha in her arms, so she really didn’t have much choice.

Before she can disappear into the kitchen, Derek beckons her over and takes the baby off her so she has her hands free to prepare a bottle. Tabitha instantly quiets in her alpha’s arm. Her reaction to him always warms Derek's heart. “This is Callista. Callista, this is Stiles.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says and her almost black eyes take in every detail in a few intense seconds before she smiles broadly. “Call me Cal. Everyone does.”

“Thank you, I will. Nice to meet you, too,” Stiles says, then turns to the baby. “So this is your daughter. She’s beautiful.”

“Cranky is what she is,” Cal says but she’s still smiling. “Excuse me. I’d better warm the bottle before she starts screaming the place down.” She makes her way into the kitchen and starts rummaging in the fridge.

Stiles comes closer to peer into Tabitha’s face with a smile. “Hello, sweetie. I can see why everyone wants you.”

The baby keeps her head on Derek's shoulder and regards Stiles with solemn eyes, while chewing on the fleshy bit of her hand just at the bottom of the thumb, as is her habit. Like most children her age, she doesn’t take easily to strangers.

“This is Stiles,” Derek says and the rumbling of his voice makes her coo a little.

Then the noise of the microwave distracts her instantly, making Stiles chuckle. “A girl after my own heart. She’ll be on a curly fries diet in no time.”

“Not if I have any say in it,” Cal says as she comes out of the kitchen with the bottle in her hand. Tabitha strains from Derek towards her mother now and Cal takes her while giving Derek a questioning look, silently asking for directions.

He nods towards the big armchair. “Let Valeska sleep a little longer.” He sighs inwardly when he hears his sister coming down the stairs but keeps his eyes on mother and child.

Stiles turns towards Cora with a smile. “Hey, Cora, how’s it going?”

“It _was_ going fine.”

Derek turns very slowly and gives her his most intimidating glare. “You want to try that again?”

As confrontational as his sister is, she does know when to draw the line. After a deep breath she says, “Hey. How are you, Stiles?”

“Uhm… fine.” Stiles’s tone is uncertain and he gives Derek a questioning look. In the past Cora has never been particularly warm towards him, but she’s never been this frosty either. His eyes are clearly asking if he missed something. Then he settles for, “It’s good to know some things never change.”

“Stiles will be staying with us,” Derek says and both his betas look at him in surprise.

“Why? You said he’d be staying elsewhere.” The implied ‘anywhere else would be preferable’ is left unsaid.

“I changed my mind,” Derek says icily.

Cora finally backs away a little and ducks her head. “If you think it’s a good idea.”

“I do.” He turns to Stiles. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“No. I’m good. I had breakfast with my dad.”

“Then let me show you upstairs.”

Stiles follows him to the second floor, where there are five guest rooms, and then on to the top floor, where the pack have their bedrooms. They debated for a long time whether it was smart to live on the top floor, which would conceivably trap them there in an attack. But this way their frequent guests have no excuse to wander past the second floor and go near the pack’s private rooms. It’s just safer this way and, if necessary, all of them could jump from their windows without injury. Isaac and Cora have rooms towards the back, while Cal and Valeska share the large one adjacent to the nursery. Derek's room is in the front, overlooking the approach to the house.

“You can sleep in the nursery,” Derek suggests. “We can clear the crib out and put a bed in there while you’re here.”

Stiles looks around Derek's bedroom with interest. “I think it would be better if I slept in here. I’ll pick up more of your scent that way. The more I smell of you the better.”

Derek swallows. “Okay. I’ll sleep in the nursery then.”

“You could do that or… you could sleep in here. If we tiptoe around each other like we’re doing now, the Morettis will know something’s up in five seconds flat. The more time we spend together between now and Tuesday the better. I won’t try to ravish you at night if you won’t.”

The last bit is said with a teasing smile and Derek prays that he’ll be able to be as detached about it as Stiles obviously is nowadays. It’s not as if they never shared a bed before. How hard can it be? He sets down Stiles’s bag heavily.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**5.**

After they’ve decided on the sleeping arrangements, Isaac meets them on the landing and Derek is pleased to see that he greets Stiles with a short one-armed hug. Stiles asks about Allison and they start filling each other in about their lives in such broad strokes that they’re fully caught up by the time they all reach the bottom of the stairs. It’s good that Isaac and Stiles know each other quite well. Hopefully it’ll make everything go a lot smoother.

They all move into the kitchen where Isaac has a second bowl of cereal standing up, leaning against one on the counters. He still eats a lot, mainly snack foods and Derek lets him get away with it because he suspects that maybe he wasn’t allowed much of that in his childhood. He also made sure that the freezers in the house are upright. If it was up to him, Isaac would never have to see another chest freezer again in his lifetime.

By now Cal is in the kitchen, too, feeding Tabitha some pureed banana and apple in her highchair. “Are we still doing the road?” she asks, glancing at Stiles and then back to Derek.

What Derek wants most is to spend time with Stiles, preferably every minute of every day that he’s here because there’s no telling when an occasion such as this will arise again, if it ever will. He’s tired of watching over Stiles from a distance although he’s accepted that he’ll have to go back to that when the negotiations are finished. But he also doesn’t want to make his feelings too obvious to his pack – or Stiles.

“I noticed you guys are asphalting the road,” Stiles jumps in. “And, man, I can tell you poor old Roscoe really appreciates it. I could practically hear it purr over it. Are you doing it yourselves? I can help.”

Derek shrugs. “Sure.”

They’re all ready twenty minutes later. By then Cora has left to spend the day with one of her friends, whose birthday it is. The others move the equipment in Isaac’s pick-up truck and Stiles is his usual enthusiastic self when Derek allows him to drive the small road roller to the site. Derek smiles as he watches his obvious enjoyment. Sometimes Stiles simply reverts back to a child, although Derek has to admit that driving the roller is everybody’s favorite part.

They work through most of the day, digging and leveling the path in preparation, then filling in the asphalt and compacting it. It’s warm, which is intensified by the large heater they’re using to make the material viscous and the hot asphalt after it’s been laid. Each of them strips down to some degree. They let Stiles do the rolling because it’s the easiest job and he’s the only human. He does a good job, precise and meticulous like Derek remembers from the times they worked on the house together.

Valeska brings them food and drinks halfway through the day before returning to the house. For their lunch break, they sit in the grass by the side of the path, eating and drinking and resting. Here under the trees, the drying sweat on their bodies actually cools them down to an almost unpleasant degree, but knowing that they’ll be going out into the heat again makes it welcome.

“I miss these woods,” Stiles says, leaning back against a tree, patting the trunk affectionately. He’s stripped off his shirt and is using it as protection against the rough bark at his back.

Derek tries not to stare even though he noticed Stiles sending him surreptitious glances earlier when he thought no one was paying attention to him. Stiles’s muscles are just starting to be a little more prominent but he’s still on the skinny side. Only his arms are well-developed and there’s a lot more hair over them and some on his chest as well. His hands have always seemed big due to his long, slender fingers, but it appears that his body has finally grown into proportion. In the cool shade his nipples are standing out and Derek forces himself to look away. Sighing inwardly, he closes his eyes, lying back on the leafy ground. It’s going to be a long week.

 

 

“I can feel muscles aching in places where I didn’t know I had any,” Stiles says with a groan when he comes down after his shower in the evening. There’s still a faint lingering tar-like smell on all of them.

“You were doing the _easy_ part,” Isaac scoffs from where he’s flipping burgers on the grill.

They’re having a barbecue, which is a regular occurrence in the summer. They all love meat, so this is their favorite meal. It also gives them an opportunity to sit around the grill and decompress from the week. Cora is still at her friend’s party and not expected back until later. In her stead Allison is making up the numbers.

“Trust you not to appreciate my hard work,” Stiles retorts good-naturedly, taking the chair between Derek and Allison, who has Tabitha on her knees. He smiles fondly at the baby, asking, “When are _you_ having your first then?”

Allison shrugs. “Plenty of time.”

Stiles turns to Derek and grins. “I meant _you_.”

He clearly didn’t, but Derek smiles at the joke nonetheless. Having Tabitha around has certainly opened his eyes to some revelations. One is that maybe he isn’t as opposed to having a child of his own as he once thought. He’s more settled now, more secure. “I don’t see you with a dozen rugrats in tow.”

Stiles’s grin turns to a soft smile. “You remembered.”

“It was memorable.” He leaves it open whether he means the conversation or the night.

“That it was.” Stiles agrees quietly, turning back to Allison. “How’s your job going?”

“I’m substituting at the high school at the moment, but I’m gonna teach full-time after the summer. European languages.”

“Really? Wow. That’s awesome. I’ve applied to the police department after the summer. Well, the academy anyway. Lydia’s coming back, too.”

“I know,” Allison smiles. “It’s like getting the band back together.”

“Yeah, I know. Although Lydia’s already being head hunted with big money. I can’t see her staying all that long. And believe me, head hunters are pretty persistent. I had to dodge one for a solid month until she got the message.”

“So you’re coming back to Beacon Hills?” Cal asks in surprise. She and Stiles have taken to each other with astonishing speed after bonding over some obscure comic book during one of their breaks this afternoon.

“Yeah. I told my dad last night that he’ll have to put up with me again. That is, until I find somewhere to live.”

Derek has learned to mask his thoughts and emotions even from other werewolves but he has a hard time calming his heartbeat right now. It helps to concentrate on that instead of what Stiles just said. Just breathe normally, steady your pulse and don’t think about it. But… _Stiles is coming home!_ He’ll be around all the time. Derek will no longer have to watch him from a distance. He’ll be able to talk to him whenever he likes…

… and he’ll be running into him all the time, at the supermarket, the gas station, the library. He’ll have to interact with him as friends, watch him start relationships with other people – and then interact with those people as if he doesn’t care. It’ll be ten times harder than watching over him when he doesn’t know. He should rejoice that it’ll be easier to protect his mate, but somehow all he can think is, _I can’t do this._

There’s an ominous silence while Stiles looks at everyone looking at him, with the exception of Derek, who’s studiously examining the grass between his feet. “You knew this,” Stiles tells him a little heatedly. “That was the plan. That was _always_ the plan. You _knew_ that was the plan. _We_ made that plan.”

“That was a long time ago,” Derek says as evenly as he can. “Plans change. People change.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

There’s another awkward pause, before Allison fills the silence with, “So, Derek, your negotiations this week have the same rules as always, right?”

He nods. “Yeah, I need Isaac here. If things go well, he can let you know and you can meet, but be careful as usual.” The last thing he needs is a hunter, an Argent no less, turning up during the negotiations. But Allison knows that and has never jeopardized any of his transactions.

“As _usual_?” Stiles asks, huffing a laugh. “Do you often have negotiations with other packs?”

“Frequently,” Derek says without inflection. He’s always surprised how hurtful it is that Stiles obviously never asks any questions about him of his dad or anyone else.

Stiles chortles, then falls quiet before he says, “You’re not joking.”

Derek shakes his head and for a few moments no one says anything, all waiting for his lead in the matter.

Finally Valeska snorts derisively. “Derek’s the best mediator in the western states. We have visitors from all over the place. How are you going to be of any use when you’re not even up-to-date on what’s going on in the community never mind our pack?”

Stiles stares first at her, then at Derek. “You’re a mediator?”

Derek shrugs, wishing Stiles didn’t sound so incredulous.

“Wow.”

“I’ll get more drinks.” With deliberate calm, Derek gets up and forces himself to walk slowly into the house. In the kitchen he leans with both hands on one of the counters and breathes deeply. This is harder than anticipated. When he saw Stiles last weekend, they talked about nothing in particular, mainly about campus life, the other students and the surroundings. It felt separate from ‘real life’, like a holiday. But now everything they talk about impacts on his life and he doesn’t handle it as well as he should.

While he was away, Stiles was almost unreal, a bit like a fantasy. What he did at Stanford was unimportant and watching him was like being a spectator in someone’s life. But now that Stiles is here, he’s suddenly a participant in Derek’s life again and he can’t even decide if he wants Stiles to participate _more_ or _less_. The idea of dealing with him on a daily basis and not being together is exceedingly painful. He tends to ignore and withdraw from this kind of turmoil and it would be prudent to do that, but at the same time he knows he won’t be able to stay away from Stiles. He’ll take whatever he can get, no matter how agonizing it will ultimately prove to be. He just doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to endure a prolonged onslaught of emotions without screwing up.

When he hears Stiles enter the house, he hastily grabs a random selection of bottles from the fridge and they reach the kitchen door at the same time.

“Need some help?” Stiles asks, grinning like it’s a joke, which it is to some degree.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Derek slides his back along the door jamb to avoid any contact as he passes the other man. And that’s what Stiles is now, a man. There’s nothing left of the teenager Derek once knew. It’s reassuring and unsettling at the same time.

“Derek.”

Derek stops and looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“You do remember that I talk a lot, right? And that what comes out of my mouth isn’t always filtered, so a lot of it sounds kind of hinky?”

“Hinky.” Derek deadpans.

Stiles grins. “Yes, hinky. It’s a technical term.” Then he becomes more serious. “I’m glad you’re carrying on the Hale family tradition. I can imagine you being really good at it. My surprise in no way implied that I don’t think you can do it.”

“I’ve been doing it for over two years, Stiles. I think the time for needing a pep talk’s passed.” He turns towards the back door but stops when Stiles puts a hand on his arm. He looks at it, deliberately ignoring the sensation of having Stiles _touch_ him, and then at Stiles.

Stiles hastily withdraws his hand, much as he did the first time it happened way back in the beginning when Derek was relying on Stiles and his jeep. “I’m not giving you a pep talk. I’m apologizing for looking like a douchebag, at least I’m trying to.”

“No need,” Derek says gruffly and marches outside to hand out the drinks that nobody asked for.

Stiles takes a full ten minutes to rejoin the group.

 

 

The evening is warm, lending itself to staying outdoors until late. Stiles spends a lot of time with Tabitha on his lap, so he can get comfortable with handling her and she doesn’t shy away from him when he comes near her. He turns out to be a bit of a natural and even Valeska soon loses her extreme watchfulness as he coos over her child. Derek tries hard not to watch.

When everyone’s retiring to bed, Derek goes for a run, hoping it will ground him. In general, some or all of his betas accompany him at the weekends but today no one approaches him for permission. He’s grateful for that while worrying at the same time whether they think he’s not coping well with Stiles being here. He shifts into his full wolf, which is something he only does when he’s alone because he easily outruns all of them in that form. Now he uses it to move to the outer reaches of his territory, where he stops and does what he rarely does, even on a full moon: he howls. Just the once. It’s not a call, just an expression of the conflict within him, the wolf equivalent of a human’s frustrated scream, and so there’s no answering howl from either his own pack or any other, but it calms him a little. Then he makes his way home.

When he gets there, Valeska is quietly pottering about in the kitchen, sterilizing baby bottles. She denies that it’s because she’s worried about the negotiations and he can detect no lie so he leaves her to it. Sometimes his betas are just restless even when it’s not the full moon.

Stiles is still awake, too, when Derek gets into bed after locking the house up and showering in one of the guest bedrooms. He’s sitting up reading, in a t-shirt and whatever he’s wearing under the covers. Derek has opted for thin sweatpants.

“Do you run every night?” Stiles closes his book and puts it on the nightstand, before sliding further under the covers.

“Most nights.” Derek switches off the light, then tries to find a comfortable position.

“I can stay with my dad, if you’d prefer. I just thought it would be good if we all got used to each other before the other pack arrives. If we don’t, then it might be easier just to tell them that we’re not… that I … that…”

“You dumped my sorry ass ages ago?” He’s relieved that it comes out light-hearted because he’s feeling decidedly bitter.

“Something like that,” Stiles snorts. “But seriously, dude, it’s all or nothing. We either get a handle on this pretense that I’m just temporarily absent with all it entails, like scent and touch and… oh, I don’t know, maybe the occasional smile. Or we fess up and tell them I’m just the emissary. It’s up to you. But make up your mind, because today was pitiful. That wouldn’t have fooled a three-year-old.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. You barely spoke to me. Or looked at me. Not to mention the smiling, which was conspicuous by its absence. I get that you’re wary of me being in your territory or whatever but you know what? Get over it.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Fine.” Stiles throws himself on his side, facing away from Derek and is obviously trying to sleep.

Derek just lies on his back and stares first at the ceiling, then at the back of Stiles’s head. There have been so many nights when he wished for this situation, for having him in his bed, and now he can barely breathe. He doesn’t hate it exactly. He will always choose to be close to Stiles if he can, but some part of him wishes the whole charade was over already.

Stiles doesn’t fall asleep for over two hours. Derek takes even longer than that.

 

*** * * * ***

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER  _

General impression:

For the first time Derek arrives slightly late (5 min). He apologizes sincerely but gives only a vague explanation (too many things happening at once). He is dressed in his usual style of dark casuals in immaculate condition and is clean-shaven. His apology sounds sincere but distracted, he’s showing signs of nervousness for the first time and remains huddled in his leather jacket throughout.

 

Transcript from the recording:

AW: You could have canceled if you’re pressed for time. I understand that you’re a busy man.

DH: I don’t want to lose momentum. If I cancel once I might do it again. I want to see it through.

AW: That’s very laudable. I’m curious: can you tell me what prompted you to seek me out now after such considerable time has passed from the major events in your life?

DH: …

AW: Sometimes people aren’t aware of why they seek help or why they do it at a particular time. Do you know why you did?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): I want things to be different, is all.

AW: What things? Your relationships? You said before that you’re doing this for the sake of future relationships but the urgency you’re displaying suggests that you’re doing this for a specific event… or maybe a specific person?

DH: Does it matter?

AW: Actually it does. If you approach therapy with a particular goal in mind other than to work through your experiences, then you’ll be disappointed. This is not a fix-it for a certain situation or a certain person. If, for example, your goal _were_ to win Stiles back by 'fixing' the things that you think – or he thinks – are 'wrong' with you, then I can guarantee you that won’t happen. It doesn’t work that way. This is for your own benefit so that you feel better about yourself or for some people it’s simply about learning to cope. It’s not so that some person will find you worthy of their attention. On the contrary, hopefully it will enable you to realize that your goal in life isn’t to live up to some other person’s standards but your own.

DH: I do have my own standards.

AW: And are you meeting them?

DH: Of course not. I’m not meeting anyone’s standards. I _killed_ my family. And I drove away the only person who put up with me after that.

AW: For one thing – and I need you to really hear me on this, Derek – you did _not_ kill your family. Kate Argent did. And nothing you did or didn’t do is in any way your fault. Your family’s death happened _to_ you, like it happened to them and to your sister. No one is to blame for it except Kate and her helpers.

DH ( _nods without looking up_ ): …

AW: The aim of this therapy is to make you believe that and to find an appropriate response to that.

DH: What would be the point? It’s all in the past. Nothing will change it.

AW: That is true. The aim’s not to change the past but the way you live with it. You’ve shouldered this responsibility for far too long. It isn’t yours to carry.

DH: I… I can’t help but feel guilty about it. I _am_ guilty. I can’t just ignore that. It’s who I am.

AW: In a sense you’re right. The guilt is so overwhelming that it _has_ become who you are. You need to learn to deal with it in a more constructive way.

DH: How?

AW: By learning that you were worthy of survival.

DH ( _snorts_ ): I’m sure there are many who’d disagree.

AW: Like who?

DH: My parents were much more worthy. My mother was revered in the community. She was a great alpha and a wonderful mother. And my father was just… he was a great father. I learned so much from him about being a beta without losing yourself.

AW: I know your parents were great people – objectively, judging by their good reputation in the community and subjectively for what they meant to you. But that wasn’t what I asked. Do you think your parents wouldn’t be glad to know that you’re alive and well?

DH: Of course, they would. They loved me.

AW: Then they would _not_ disagree that you’re worthy of survival. No one but you thinks that, Derek. Just because you wish that you could exchange your life for theirs doesn’t mean that they’d agree. They’d feel exactly the same way. You’re here through circumstances just like they’re dead through circumstances. No one begrudges you your survival – except you. It’s called survivor’s guilt. And you would feel it even if your family had died in a car accident or an accidental house fire. People with survivor’s guilt feel just that: guilty. Simply for surviving. It causes depression among other things.

DH: I’m not suicidal.

AW: No, I don’t think you are. But you’re not very kind to yourself either. Being kind to yourself is a big part of coping. Let me ask you something: imagine what happened to your family had happened to someone else. All the circumstances are the same. There’s Kate and there’s this other person and she does to him and his family what she did to you and yours. Everything is exactly the same, except it’s not you. It’s… let’s say: it’s Stiles instead. He was what… fifteen, sixteen when you met? Remind yourself of him at that age. He got involved with Kate, like you did, and she killed his family, like she did with yours. What would you say to him?

DH: I don’t know.

AW: Come on. You can do better than that. You say it to yourself every day. Just say it to Stiles. He did what you did. Tell him what you think of him.

DH: No.

AW: Just tell him. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Tell him!

DH: I can’t!

AW: Why not?

DH: Because Stiles… it wouldn’t be his fault. He’s just a kid. He didn’t mean… he’s a good person. He wouldn’t do such a thing. If something like that happened to him I couldn’t make it worse by saying stuff to him. He’s suffered enough!

AW: You’re right. You’ve suffered enough, Derek. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Stop piling abuse on yourself. It wasn’t your fault. _You_ were just a kid. Whenever you think back on that time, imagine Stiles instead of you and then say only the things to yourself that you’d say to him. You love him. Love yourself the same way.

DH: I don’t think I can.

AW: That’s why you’re here. To learn.

DH: …

AW: Shall we take a moment and then speak about something else?

DH ( _nods_ ): …

 

Derek leaves the room for fifteen minutes to calm down. I take the time to evaluate my own response to him. I confess I am more invested in this case than I have ever been with any of my other cases as is evidenced by the fact that I no longer call him ‘the subject’ in my head or on paper. He has a fascinating personal history but I am more drawn by how much he worked out his own issues already (which is quite remarkable), his determination and his personality. I must keep a watch on this development and turn this case over to a colleague if I find that I cannot maintain my professional impartiality.

Derek returns with coffee from the coffee shop down the road – for him and me. He seems calmer but irritated.

 

AW: When you said you drove away the only person who put up with you, you were talking about Stiles?

DH: Yeah.

AW: Do you feel that Stiles knew you? Did he know about Kate, for example?

DH: Stiles knew everything. He knew about Kate and about Paige. About Laura and Peter, Boyd, Erica, and he even had a front row seat when I met Jennifer. He was the one who told me she was homicidal. He’s so observant. You can’t fool Stiles.

AW: And yet you did.

DH ( _confused_ ): What? ( _angry_ ) I didn’t! I was completely open with him.

AW: But he started a relationship with you. You must have fooled him somehow.

DH ( _annoyed_ ): What are you getting at?

AW: If you’re as terrible a person as you say you are, you must have somehow hidden that from him. What did you do that was so terrible that he finally left you?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): I don’t know. One day he just realized what a fuck-up I am.

AW: I see. But according to you, he already knew you, so he either _didn’t_ know you – then he’s not as smart and observant as you say he is – or he _did_ know you and didn’t _care_. The question is: why did he suddenly start caring? Or you could consider the possibility that there was never anything wrong with you.

DH: Maybe he just decided that he finally had enough.

AW: I see. So he knew what a fuck-up you are, put up with it for months and then decided he could no longer be bothered.

DH: He was young. It was a lot to ask of him.

AW: Did you?

DH: Did I what?

AW: Ask him? Did you say to him that you’re a fuck-up and ask him to overlook it?

DH: Of course not. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice or care. Just for a little while.

AW: You wanted Stiles not to _care_ while you two were in a relationship? Isn’t caring one of the cornerstones of a relationship? What was your relationship based on?

DH: I loved him.

AW: Yes, that’s quite evident. What was it based on from his side?

DH: How would I know?

AW: What did he say it was based on? I understand he made the first move. What did he tell you?

DH: That he was in love with me. That he loved me.

AW: …

DH: We had a lot of sex. The sex was good.

AW: …

DH: He was so young.

AW: …

DH ( _annoyed_ ): I always knew he’d leave, okay? He was too young, and too smart. He had places to go. He had his whole life ahead of him. I couldn’t take that away from him.

AW: Like Kate took yours?

DH: Exactly.

AW: What reason did Stiles give you for breaking up with you?

DH: That I had issues. That I didn’t trust myself around him. That I was worried I’d turn into Kate.

AW: You _were_ worried that you’d turn into Kate. You were convinced you _were_ just like her.

DH ( _angry_ ): Because I _was_!

AW: Derek, Kate took something from you, your youth, your innocence, your confidence. She took all of that without your consent. That was one of her crimes and even if it looks minor to you compared to what else she did, it really isn’t. By contrast, you _gave_ Stiles something. You gave him your love and yourself in every way. With his expressed and informed consent. That wasn’t a crime. It was a gift. You are not Kate. And you never will be. And I’m sure Stiles never thought of you as someone like Kate. He wasn’t somehow fooled by you because he didn’t see you for what you are and he didn’t leave you because you’re a bad person or not good enough.

DH ( _shaking his head_ ): You can’t know that.

AW: From what I gathered from you and from his father, I know that Stiles is quite astute. And he loved you. He didn’t leave you for those reasons because you’re neither a bad person nor inadequate in some way. And he would have known that. If you find out why he left or maybe even just admit it to yourself, because I dare say that deep down you already know, then a lot of what you’re trying to achieve here will be done.

DH: What if I’m right?

AW: Then Stiles isn’t the person you thought he was and you will have to deal with that.

 

General session notes:

This was a difficult session for Derek. I had planned to carry on with his account of his life after the fire, but when he arrived, I sensed that he was on edge and more susceptible today. Some probing into his motivations for the therapy yielded results beyond my expectations. Derek was agitated and forthcoming for the first time. As suspected, his relationship with his mate – or rather the end of it – is his main motivator. His emotions are still raw where Stiles is concerned. He seemed very fragile today but made some progress.

Before he left, Derek told me that Stiles has agreed to help him with his negotiations (apparently there is a dispute concerning the child in his pack) and has insisted on moving not just into his house but his bedroom. This would account for Derek's unusual vulnerability today. I fear that spending time with Stiles (he has only been there for two days so far), especially pretending to be in a functioning relationship for the other pack, while maintaining face with his own pack, will prove quite a challenge for Derek. I would have advised against this course of action but saw no gain in criticizing it after the fact. Derek is generally not open to suggestions that contradict Stiles in any way. Because I have no way of gauging Stiles, I am deeply concerned about Derek and have urged him not to skip next week’s session no matter what happens.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts one day before Derek's session at the end of the last chapter.

 

**6.**

 

In the morning, Derek wakes up with Stiles plastered against his back, one arm slung loosely over his waist in a proprietary manner, sweat forming wherever their skin touches. Stiles is a stealth cuddler, although there was no need for stealth once they got together because Derek was generally happy to be as close as they could possibly get. Stiles curling protectively around him for the vast majority of the time was an added bonus. He’s sure there’s some deep psychological meaning behind that but for him it was always enough to know that they both liked it that way. Waking up like this brings back a myriad of memories of their time together, long mornings, sleepy half conversations interspersed with soft kisses to the nearest body part. Stiles’s erection against his ass is also more than familiar, causing Derek to react in a similar manner.

He extricates himself from the barnacle-like arms with the utmost carefulness, eliciting a mumbled protest from Stiles, and makes his way into the en suite shower. Everything smells of Stiles. It will drive him crazy for weeks. For now he can’t help but touch himself under the warm water, deliberately not picturing Stiles with him there because that would make him feel like he’s some sort of pervert. It isn’t likely that Stiles would appreciate being used for masturbation material, so it feels like it would be an invasion of privacy and Derek could never do anything that Stiles doesn’t welcome.

When he comes back out, mostly dressed and just pulling his shirt over his head, Stiles is awake and watching him. Derek can smell his arousal from across the room. How is he supposed to _do_ this? “Maybe you should jerk off,” he says, suddenly feeling inexplicably angry with Stiles, who’s looking a little sheepish at being caught out – Derek refuses to think of it as adorable. “You know, make the scent more authentic.” As he leaves the room, he can hear the thump of Stiles’s book hitting the door behind him.

The house smells invitingly of coffee already. Downstairs Cora is sitting at the kitchen table with a mug, stirring in a generous amount of sugar. Derek bids her good morning and helps himself to coffee, adding lots of cream.

“How was Lily’s party?”

“Okay. Wild. How was the first day?”

“First day of what?”

“The first day of having Stiles turn your life upside down.”

Derek really isn’t in the mood for this. He bends down to say quietly but very distinctly close to her ear, “This _will_ stop. Right here. Right now.” It’s accompanied by a low growl of warning.

Cora freezes with her drink halfway to her mouth, giving off clear signs of submission, her head turning a little to bare her throat just in front of Derek. “I promise.”

“Good.” He straightens and moves over to the cupboard to start setting the table. A moment later he can hear Stiles thumping down the stairs, making enough noise to wake a herd of elephants never mind a pack of werewolves and immediately bringing forth a piercing cry of displeasure from Tabitha in the nursery. He turns to greet Stiles with raised eyebrows because Stiles is obviously _very_ angry. He’s still in the shirt he slept in and has only put on pants but no socks or shoes. His hair has been smoothed down by running his hands through it hastily and is sticking out a little on one side.

“What the fuck, Derek?” Stiles’s eyes are blazing, but then he notices Cora and hesitates. “Uhm… good morning.” He turns back to Derek, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him towards the door. “A _word_. Outside. _Now_.”

Cora growls and gets up halfway before Derek holds out his hand to stop her. Keeping his hand on Derek, Stiles gives her a withering look as she sinks back down. “Really?” he asks sarcastically. “What do you think I’m gonna do to him? I mean, honestly: you think I’m gonna take him outside and give him a beating? Really? What the fuck could skinny little me possibly do to a werewolf?”

“Enough!” Derek roars, making both of them jump and Stiles hastily remove his hand. He grabs Stiles’s arm and drags him towards the door. Despite having suggested this course of action in the first place, there’s now some resistance as Stiles is still glaring challengingly at Cora, who, to Derek's great relief, is holding her tongue for once. When they’ve left the kitchen, Derek lets go and both of them stomp angrily out the back door.

They walk as far as the tree line, which isn’t far enough to prevent anyone in the house from overhearing them but far enough to indicate to them that they shouldn’t. Derek trusts that they’ll abide by his implicit command. When he stops, he looks at Stiles, who’s taking a deep breath to start berating him, and all of Derek’s anger vanishes as suddenly as it appeared. Stiles is here to help and he hasn’t asked for anything in return. The least Derek can do is treat him decently. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “What I said was uncalled for. I apologize.”

Stiles closes his mouth with a snap and a confused frown. “Yeah well, I’m tired of being treated like the enemy,” he says finally. “I’m trying to help and you and your sister and Valeska treat me like I’m pissing all over your territory. May I remind you that you _asked_ me to help? I didn’t turn up here out of the blue. I was invited. By you.”

“I already apologized.”

“Yes, and very prettily, too. The question is: why did you say it in the first place? And yes, I know you can smell my… my… boner or whatever, but it’s not as if I have any control over that. I don’t get morning wood just to piss you off. It’s not meant as a personal insult.”

Despite being all too aware of this, Derek feels like Stiles has just slapped him. Because this is exactly the problem he has with the whole situation: that nothing Stiles is doing is personal. It’s what he does.

Stiles watches him for a while, waiting for an answer. “Do you want me to leave? I can stay with my dad or Scott and come back on Tuesday. Or I can just leave.” The _and never come back_ remains unspoken but heavily implied.

Part of Derek wants to say _yes_ , wants to stop this whole painful travesty right now and go back to his life before Stiles came and disrupted everything again. But he suspects that the Morettis are specifically insisting on bringing their emissary because they’re hoping that the Hales don’t have one. Not having a traditional setup would put his pack in an inferior position from the outset and he’s not taking any chances where his pack members are concerned, especially not Tabitha. It’s an argument, but Derek also knows that things might work out the same eventually if Stiles just turned up on Tuesday. Emissaries don’t have to live with their pack – Deaton didn’t – it’s just that the vast majority of them do. Of course, it would be better if _his mate_ lived with him. An alpha without a mate is always weaker. But he knows that none of that is the real reason, so he shakes his head and says, “No, stay.”

“If we’re bickering and generally looking divided, that’ll be worse than me not being here at all.”

“I know. No more bickering.”

“Good.”

They stand around a little awkwardly, not knowing what to say next, with Stiles pulling an array of faces while scratching his head and it’s so achingly familiar that Derek wants to punch the nearest tree. Instead he resolutely walks back into the house, followed closely by Stiles. By now, everybody in the house is up, probably due to the commotion in the kitchen earlier on, and Derek sits down after saying a general morning greeting. After a moment, Cal steps closer and holds the baby out to him. It’s always soothing to have hold of Tabitha. They’ll all have to be careful to pay close attention to her signals soon so she can learn that it’s her decision who touches her. But next to her mothers, she’s happiest with her alpha, so he’s not likely to miss out.

Allison’s still there from the night before and likely to spend the day, but she’s such a regular fixture by now that no one is bothered by her presence any longer. As long as she’s in a relationship with Isaac, she’s welcome. So far she’s never used anything she learned in this house against the pack or even divulged it to anyone as far as Derek knows. But it’s still hard for him. She will always be Kate’s niece and he knows that apart from Isaac no one in his pack trusts her without reservation. However, they all strive to behave the same as they usually do in her presence and that’ll have to do for now.

“We need to talk about Tuesday,” Derek says, looking down at Tabitha, who’s suckling on her bottle. “I think we should leave the initial talk to Stiles since the Morettis don’t know him and probably aren’t prepared for him. It might throw them off.”

Stiles has taken a seat next to Isaac. “Okay,” he says when no one objects – at least not out loud. “So let’s cover the basics. What’s the legal situation?”

“What do you mean?” Cal frowns.

“Well, did Marco sign any papers to relinquish his parental rights? Do you personally have parental rights? Is there a contract?”

“Why is that important?” Cora asks cooly. “This is about _our_ laws and traditions.”

“I’m sure it is. But if we can stop them from coming at you with an ordinary lawyer, then that’s one thing we don’t need to worry about. If I were the Morettis and I found myself losing the argument, I’d bring in the law if it’s on my side. Is it?”

Valeska shakes her head to Stiles’s question. “We didn’t sign anything. We went to a clinic, Marco… did his thing and that was it. He wasn’t even supposed to tell anyone. When I told him that I had the baby, he said congratulations and talked about wanting children of his own one day. He didn’t consider Tabitha his child. It was a gift.”

“And how did the Morettis find out? If he died in an accident, it was presumably quick or he would have healed, so he wouldn’t have had any time to tell anyone.”

There’s a helpless shrug from Valeska, who seems to be getting worried now, if she wasn’t before.

Stiles turns to Derek. “So what are we doing? Best case scenario and worst case scenario?”

“Best case, their alpha wants to see her grandchild occasionally. Worst case she wants Tabitha to carry on the line as her heir.”

“Obviously the second one is a no-no because it would involve taking Tabitha away. What’s your stance on visitation?”

Derek looks at the two mothers. Cal has her head down, presenting only the masses of her curly black hair and silently stirring her cereal. Valeska shakes her head vehemently, eyes blazing. “I don’t want anyone to have visitation rights. Tabitha is ours. Mine and Cal’s and the pack’s. I don’t want anyone to interfere in her upbringing.”

“Cal?” Derek asks.

His beta looks at him and shrugs. “Apparently I have no rights.” Her eyes are glassy. Like the rest of them, she never considered the legal situation before.

“I was asking your opinion. What are you willing to allow?”

“But I have no rights.”

“You have in this pack. You’re her mother, too.” Derek's voice is gentler than his mood. It’s the first time Cal’s been anything but determined. It’s sad to see her so defeatist and he really needs her to be ready to fight for Tabitha when the Morettis arrive, not thinking that maybe they have a point.

“The Morettis are like… they’re traditional. If they get the chance to have a say in Tabitha’s life, they’ll try and push me out.”

Derek knows exactly what she didn’t say, that the Morettis are like the Curnocks, who rather lost their daughter than let her be with the person she loves.

Valeska looks at Stiles as if he’s the enemy. “We’re offering nothing. Tabitha’s ours and we’re not sharing.”

Stiles’s face scrunches up. “Nothing at all? I get your objections, I really do, but you have to give me something to work with. Something tiny. Maybe a supervised visit? Occasionally?”

Valeska shakes her head vehemently, but Cal nods solemnly. “She _is_ the grandmother.”

Valeska frowns at her, then sighs and takes her mate’s hand. “Fine.”

“Maybe a visit or two,” Derek decides. “Here. With supervision by us. But no more than once a month. And no more than two people visiting.”

“I can work with that,” Stiles says. “Now who’s going to be here on Tuesday?”

“Everyone. We always take time off work when we have visitors until we’re sure there won’t be any trouble.”

“Okay. That’s good. Are we doing anything special tomorrow?”

“Not really. Cal and Isaac have to work if they want to be free for the rest of the week. Cora will be here. And so will Valeska.”

“So you and I and maybe Valeska should probably go find a lawyer who can draw up some papers for Cal’s parental rights. It won’t be ready for Tuesday but I would highly recommend it for the future. If something happens to Valeska, you’re all screwed because no court in the land will accept your rights above the rights of a grandmother.”

Derek can’t believe he didn’t think about that before. “You’re right, but I can’t tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Stiles asks at the same time as Cora snarks, “You’re going on your mystery date again? Where are you even going?”

It’s not the first time this has come up. He’s been fielding questions on the topic ever since he started going to Dr. Winter. It’s probably because he doesn’t often keep secrets from the pack. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a mystery any longer, would it?”

“Am I missing something?” Stiles asks. “Are we talking an actual date here? Or a date as in you have to be somewhere at a certain predetermined time?”

“We’re talking none of anybody’s business,” Derek says decisively, more for Cora’s sake than Stiles’s.

His sister huffs demonstratively and shakes her head, while Stiles blinks at him excessively. And for a few long minutes he’s uncharacteristically silent.

 

 

Later they all come together for a late lunch in the dining room. The pack hosts periodic get-togethers with all the relevant parties in Beacon Hills. Chris Argent arrives as punctually as ever and almost at the same time as Scott does. Derek’s been trying to foster good relations with the others but so far this has proven easier with the Argents than it has with Scott, who’s quite often ‘too busy’ to attend or says outright that he doesn’t see the point. Derek suspects that he’s only present today – and on time, too – because of Stiles. The two friends greet each other with a long hug and huge grins, talking non-stop without moving from the front porch or acknowledging anyone else.

Meanwhile Derek wanders away from them and into the house, where Argent is already sitting next to his daughter, exchanging pleasantries with Isaac and Cal, who takes hunters and other alphas in her house in her stride. Cora and Valeska not so much. His sister is setting food on the table with somewhat aggressive precision, not hiding how much she resents having to provide for people she doesn’t approve of. Meanwhile Valeska has taken the seat furthest away from any of their visitors and is cradling the baby protectively. Derek knows that Argent won’t approach the child. He’s many things but thoughtless or suicidal aren’t among them.

A while later, Scott and Stiles come in, laughing together, all comfortable and easy. Then Scott goes quiet and shoots a furtive look at Allison, who smiles at him but doesn’t interrupt her conversation with Isaac and her dad. Derek is gratified that Chris is friendly towards his beta. He always worries that Isaac’s feelings may get hurt, although Scott’s more likely to do that nowadays than Allison’s father. He still can’t quite get over his feelings for Allison. It’s a wonder he’s still with Kira, but they’re having a long-distance relationship, while Kira is doing an internship on the East Coast, and how that’s going is anybody’s guess.

Stiles squeezes in between Scott and Derek and is the first one to help himself to food as soon as Cora sits down. Derek watches him load his plate with amusement. Some things never change. Stiles still eating like a teenager is one of them. He barely waits for everyone to serve themselves before tucking into the food.

The conversation isn’t as halting as it normally is on these occasions. Stiles’s unique style of gentle ribbing is all-inclusive although he focuses mainly on Scott. Derek learns more about what the other alpha’s been up to during the meal than he has over last few months. Chris is looking at Stiles askance but doesn’t refuse to answer when it’s his turn to get asked a question in that slightly irreverent way that Stiles has with everyone. Derek’s glad that Stiles is on their side because he has perfected the art of talking a lot without saying anything while at the same time eliciting a lot of information.

Towards the end of the meal, the car of their last guest pulls up. None of his betas react much and Derek stays seated until the sheriff arrives in the dining room, saying a general, “Good afternoon. Sorry I’m late.”

Derek smiles and nods towards one of the empty chairs.

“Dad,” Stiles says in surprise. “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

“I was invited, son. And I confess myself disappointed by your detective skills. The empty plate should have clued you in. That’s pretty embarrassing for the sheriff’s son, not to mention a budding criminologist.” He takes a seat and starts filling his plate.

“Yeah, well, I was distracted. Don’t eat that sauce. It’s going to shoot your cholesterol into the stratosphere.”

Stilinski looks at his son’s plate, where all the food is practically swimming in said sauce, and serves himself a generous helping. “I won’t forego Cora’s special recipe just because you’re here. I’ll go back to rabbit food tomorrow.”

“How d’you… why do I get the impression that this isn’t the first time you’re eating that sauce here?”

“The aforementioned detective skills finally kicking in?” Sarcasm obviously runs in the family.

Stiles stares at his dad, then gives Derek a long searching look, but it’s Scott he addresses. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That your dad and Derek are BFFs? I thought you knew and it’s none of my business.” There’s an underlying tone of disapproval in Scott’s voice that earns him an undecipherable look from Stilinski.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Stiles asks, looking from Derek to his father and back.

“All you had to do was ask,” Stilinski says gently before starting on his food.

Stiles looks around the table with such a confused and wounded expression that Derek wishes he could have a do-over where he’d forewarned him of their friendship. This look of betrayal is breaking his heart.

Then Stiles shrugs it off and says in a light-hearted tone, “Maybe we should discuss what we came here for?”

Derek hates Stiles’s casual dismissal of his own feelings even more than he hated the unhappy expression on his face but he plays along to end the awkwardness. “There’ll be another pack in town again this week.” He fills them in as much as possible without mentioning that this is a rather more personal mediation. All Scott and Chris need to know is how many werewolves are expected and how hostile or friendly they’re likely to be. It’s something he does every time before they have visitors, either by phone or in person. He doesn’t want an accidental meeting between the hunter or the other alpha and a visiting pack to end in an altercation.

“Is this ever going to end?” Scott says plaintively and not for the first time. “You’re forever bringing new people into Beacon Hills. One day it will all end in bloodshed.”

Derek shrugs. He doesn’t care much what Scott thinks any longer and ignoring him usually yields the desired result of shutting him up. Scott’s too polite to actively pursue a confrontation, nor has he anything to complain about. The town has been quiet for a couple of years now. It’s very likely that the word that there’s a new Hale pack in Beacon Hills and that they’re carrying on where the old Hale pack left off plays no small part in it. However, he sees no reason to defend his actions to Scott.

“So far everything went well,” Stilinski points out and Scott acquiesces with a reluctant nod, quite possibly because this is coming from someone who has commanded his respect since kindergarten. Derek sometimes wonders how much his friendship with the sheriff goes towards Scott leaving him in peace for the most part. He’s sure he’d have a lot more problems with him if he didn’t have Stilinski in his corner.

Scott doesn’t say anything out loud but looks at Chris in silent appeal. In the past they’ve sometimes been natural allies against Derek.

This time, however, the hunter shakes his head. “I don’t know, Scott. I don’t like having strange packs in town either, but they’re just using Beacon Hills as neutral territory. And I have to admit a strong Hale pack is good for all of us. Other packs will think twice about coming here. The more the pack’s reputation grows, the safer we all are.”

Scott looks at Chris almost as if he feels let down, but Derek gets distracted by Stiles smiling at him with bright eyes. He can’t look away when Stiles looks at him like that, with pride and affection. More than Chris’s words, that look makes him aware that he’s accomplished something here over the last few years. He’s worked hard to step into his mother’s footsteps but it’s only now that he realizes he has reason to be proud of it. He gives Stiles a tentative half-smile and lowers his eyes to hide the strange embarrassment he’s feeling.

After that the conversation centers on more banal subjects. As _invite-your-enemies-to-the-table_ lunches go, this one passes without a hitch. The Argents aren’t really the pack’s enemies any longer but a remnant of resentment remains on both sides. If they didn’t have dealings with each other, not to mention Allison and Isaac to consider, Derek would be happy to never speak to them again, but he has to admit that Chris is doing a good job of keeping Beacon Hills free of hunters. He can acknowledge that much.

The usual turn of events is that Scott leaves as soon as he can, but today he retreats to the den with Stiles, Allison and Isaac. Derek can’t remember if Scott’s ever been in the room adjacent to the lounge before but he thinks not. It’s where the pack and their friends unwind and it’s generally off limits to guests. Visitors have the lounge to relax during their visits. The whole house is divided that way: the second floor is for guests, the third only for pack. The downstairs lounge and dining room are to entertain, the den and the kitchen with its large homemade table and benches are to relax and be by themselves. So far only Allison, Cora’s now ex-boyfriend and Stilinski have been exempt from the rules – and Stiles, of course.

Derek ignores his misgivings about Scott and accompanies Chris Argent to his car. Their mutual respect allows for polite even friendly conversations nowadays. When he returns to the house, the sheriff has moved to the kitchen, helping himself to more coffee. The other betas have gone upstairs. He can faintly hear Cal singing to her daughter, trying to put her to sleep. She’ll need a lot of luck with that. Teething babies are every bit as cranky as their reputation would have it.

“I went to see your… new acquaintance,” Stilinski says in the low voice that he uses when he’s trying not to be overheard.

It’s a ludicrous attempt but Derek’s never had the heart to tell him that werewolves can hear even better than he thinks. “Thank you for doing that for me.” He has to stop himself from asking how it went. Dr. Winter told him that it was completely confidential.

“She didn’t ask anything weird and she seemed very competent. I liked her.”

“Well, you have her number,” Derek says with a smirk. “In case you wanna ask her on a date.”

Stilinski chuckles. “I’ve enough on my hands at the moment. Did Stiles tell you that he’s coming home? I mean after he graduates. He’s actually coming back to Beacon Hills.”

Derek can hear the happiness in the words and smiles despite his own confused reactions to the news. “Yes, he told us last night.”

“Oh, good.” Stilinski rubs the back of his head. “How is it going between you two?”

Derek shrugs. “Everything’s fine.”

“You realize that whenever you say that, I know you’re bullshitting me, right? It’s like a verbal tell.”

Derek gives another shrug. “There’s nothing to say.” Or way too much. But he can’t talk about how his whole body aches from suppressed muscle memory, how he can barely look at Stiles because he’s convinced that everything he’s feeling is plain to see in his eyes, how he finds his own hands too close to him sometimes and has no idea how they got there, how seeing Stiles upset over various things this weekend broke his heart in so many different ways or how he just wants to grab Stiles – _all the fucking time_ – and kiss the hell out of him.

Stilinski pats his shoulder a few times. “Just talk to him.”

Sound advice under most circumstances but Derek knows there’s no point. It’s not as if they haven’t been here before. They have. For eight months they tried and it didn’t work. And however much he misses Stiles and wants him and… loves him still, he could never go through that kind of aftermath again.

Luckily Stilinski always knows when to change to subject. They end up sitting at the kitchen table and discussing Tabitha’s situation again. Unsurprisingly the sheriff urges him to follow Stiles’s advice and consult a lawyer as soon as possible. Derek vows to make an appointment after the Morettis have left. He can’t believe how stupid he’s been. Even without the Morettis in the picture, the Curnocks would swoop down on Tabitha in a heartbeat if anything happened to Valeska. They wouldn’t leave her with her other mother, whom they blame for Valeska leaving her family in the first place nor with Derek, whom they resent for having provided them with a safe harbor.

After the sheriff has left, Derek sits on the comfortable couch in the library reading a book. He has no desire to join the others in the den, knowing that Scott would be made uneasy by his mere presence. He can hear them talking and laughing like they used to when they were still in high school, but shuts it out. Luckily the book is quite engrossing and the walls lined with handcrafted shelves stuffed with books muffle the sound somewhat. Nobody uses the library much apart from him and Cal, so he’s not likely to be disturbed.

An hour later, Cora pops her head in to tell him that she’s meeting with one of her friends and not to expect her for dinner. Eventually he hears Stiles walk Scott out to his car and Isaac and Allison disappear upstairs into his room. Then Stiles wanders into the library and sits down next to him. _Way_ too close. Maybe Derek isn’t the only one who has trouble remembering that they’re no longer together. Everything’s so fucking familiar.

“So you and my dad, eh?” Stiles says after a while. “How did that happen?”

Derek doesn’t put his book down or even look up although reading is out of the question when Stiles is so close. “We worked together a lot and then we became friends. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, maybe not for you. I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that my father and my… and _you_ are friends. Has he taken you fishing yet? Because let me tell you, when he takes you fishing, you’ve reached the inner circle.”

Derek tries to ignore Stiles slip-up over what to call him, which feels very much like déjà vu. “Yes, Stiles, we’ve been fishing together for nearly two years now,” he answers sardonically, but finally looks at Stiles when there’s no response. Stiles looks… sad? Anxious? He’s always anxious so it’s difficult to tell. Derek gives him a half smile. “I like fishing. It’s really no big deal.”

“No offense but I can’t imagine you fishing,” Stiles says with a weirdly solemn expression.

Derek shrugs. “I like the quiet.”

That finally draws a startled snort. “Makes sense. Because living in the middle of the woods really isn’t quiet enough. What with all the birds singing and small animals scurrying and deer crashing through the undergrowth.” There’s a strangely bitter undertone.

“It’s a different quiet.” How can he explain that it helps him unwind from the responsibility of leading the pack and he’s never as relaxed as when he’s fishing?

Stiles gives him a long look and Derek gets the impression that he understands perfectly what the attraction for Derek is. “Good for you,” he says softly.

“Do you ever go fishing with your dad?” Derek immediately regrets the question when he belatedly remembers the sheriff telling him once what an unmitigated disaster his only fishing trip with his son was.

Stiles chuckles and now the bitterness is marked. “A word of advice: never take a hyperactive kid near a river, or a fishing rod, or anywhere you’re trying to relax.”

Derek is overcome with sadness for the child that Stiles was. While Stilinski is overall a good father, great even, sometimes his struggle with being a single parent shows. He never says a bad word about his son but when he speaks to him, his exasperation occasionally shines through. How hard that must have been for Stiles growing up. Doesn’t every child seek their parents’ approval? Derek certainly did. And even today Stilinski simply told his son he should have asked about Derek, as if it was Stiles’s fault that he never mentioned their friendship. How was Stiles supposed to ask a question about something that never entered his head? Derek gently places a hand on Stiles’s thigh in sympathy and support.

And Stiles… freezes. He just stops as if he’s not even breathing, making Derek withdraw his hand immediately.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just… I’ve got to… ” Stiles gets up and leaves the room.

When he’s alone, Derek huffs a mirthless laugh. Stiles obviously has an urgent need to be somewhere that isn’t here. This is the part that Derek hates: Stiles walking away from him. He remembers only too well the last time he did that, while Derek was willing him to look back and Stiles never did, literally or figuratively. It hurts even though he knows Stiles isn’t going far – there’s no sound of the jeep starting up – just far enough to remove himself from Derek's presence. After staring at the closed library door for a while, he determinedly opens his book but ends up just holding it in his lap, looking at the page with unseeing eyes. For the next two hours he contemplates why he’d much rather have Stiles around than the alternative of a more tranquil life. He eventually decides that he must be some kind of masochist. It would explain a lot.

 

 

Derek runs for an hour after everyone has gone to bed. He and Stiles haven’t really spoken since he left the library and he’s struggling to keep his uneasiness from the rest of the pack. Out of all of them Cal is the one making the most effort to smooth things over. Isaac is visibly upset by the strange atmosphere at the dinner table that evening, withdrawing into himself, while Valeska is turning more hostile again, as she’s laying the blame for what’s happening squarely at Stiles’s feet. Only Cal is diplomatic enough to hold a conversation with their guest. Derek’s just glad that Cora isn’t home.

He sneaks into the bedroom after a few quick words with Cal, who’s still up reading, and taking a shower in one of the guest rooms again. He must remember to restock it with clean towels before the Morettis arrive the day after tomorrow. The bedroom is dark and quiet but Derek isn’t fooled. He can sense that Stiles isn’t asleep yet. Still, he slips into bed as gently as he can.

For a while nothing happens, then Stiles says, “Derek?”

“Hhm.”

“I’m really sorry that I kissed you when you came to Stanford last week.”

Yeah, figures he would regret that. “Why did you?”

Stiles turns around, not quite to face him but to lie on his back and look up at the ceiling, although the room is almost pitch dark. There’s no ambient light out here in the woods and only a sliver of the moon tonight. “I was surprised. I saw you and I hadn’t seen you for so long and I thought… I wasn’t thinking, I suppose, and I’m sorry. It was… wrong. And I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s a pretty useless thing to say to someone as anxiety-riddled as me.”

“Point taken.” He doesn’t say that it’s alright because it isn’t. Stiles kissing him was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most heart-breaking thing that happened to him in a long time. But he can sense Stiles’s anxiety levels rising so he adds, “Water under the bridge then.”

“This is a mistake,” Stiles says. “I thought it would be good… authentic, you know, but I don’t know if I can do this. It doesn’t feel right.”

Derek waits, hoping that there’ll be more of an explanation but finally agrees, “No, it doesn’t.” Because it’s true. Nothing about this feels right. And the saddest thing about it is the revelation that he’ll never be friends with Stiles. However much he tries, he just can’t. It’s all or nothing for him. When they were together Stiles was his best friend but somehow he can’t separate that part of their relationship from the part where they loved each other. And the truth is that he misses his friend as much as he misses his lover.

“I should move into the nursery, like you said. Or back to my dad’s.”

“Either is fine.” It would look better if the alpha’s mate lived in the house but it’s not essential. They could easily concoct a story about Stiles’s father needing help in the house.

“You’re still so infuriating.” There’s no heat behind the words, just resignation.

Derek doesn’t really understand what’s so infuriating about letting Stiles make his own choices, but then again, there are a lot of things he’ll never understand about Stiles.

“Is this hard for you, Derek? I mean is me being here hard for you?”

He wants to say _yes_ , wants to scream out his frustration with the situation, wants to ask Stiles how he expects him to be okay with Stiles being so close and yet so utterly unreachable. But he can’t do that to him. He can’t blame another person for his own feelings. He promised not to do that. Not to Stiles. He’s already worried that his sadness is showing and that it’s a form of manipulation in itself. He can’t tell him. “I asked you to help. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

Stiles makes a strange, almost strangled noise. In the dark, without being able to see his expression, it’s impossible to tell if it’s frustration, anger or something else. Then there are a few huffs before he says, “Tell me what’s best for the pack. You can do that at least, right?”

“The pack would look strongest with the alpha and his mate being together.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

Now it’s Derek's turn for a sardonic huff. If only it were that easy.

 

 

In the morning Derek runs the usual gamut of snide remarks from Cora about where he’s going before he leaves the house – this time she’s supported by Stiles asking the same type of questions only with more humor. During the drive he thinks about nothing but Stiles. Everything Stiles has done or said or not said since he arrived on Friday is evaluated and re-evaluated.

He eventually arrives slightly late at Dr. Winter’s office, which puts him on the wrong foot from the start. That explains why he actually talks about Stiles to her, something he’s been trying to avoid. When he leaves he wonders if she’s right. Is he doing this because he’s hoping to get Stiles back? That’s terribly pathetic even for him. By now it should be obvious that that’s not going to happen.

But he sits in his car and asks himself the other question she left him with: why did Stiles leave him? It’s been bothering him since the day it happened. Was it because he was fucked up? He’s always been fucked up. Stiles knew that better than anyone. Did he suddenly have enough of that? Or was it because he was over-protective? He knows Stiles hated that. Was it suddenly too much? Did Stiles simply fall out of love? Did he want to spread his wings? He’s been dating a lot. Did he just want to keep his options open? Or was it some kind of _I’m-no-good-for-you-so-I’ll-break-up-with-you_ nonsense? That would make it almost bearable. But Stiles was the best thing that ever happened to him. Surely he must have known that.

When he gets home, Cora and Valeska are having coffee in the kitchen while Stiles is nowhere to be seen. Neither of the betas knows where he’s gone only that he left just after Derek did. His phone goes straight to voicemail but Derek isn’t worried. There’s no reason why Stiles has to stick around the house before their guests arrive. There are plenty of people and places in Beacon Hills he might like to visit while he’s here.

After checking that the guest rooms are clean and tidy, Derek goes to read in the library. It’s another couple of hours before his uneasiness gets the better of him and tries Stiles’s phone once more. Voicemail again. For a while he stands by the window watching a rare shower for the time of year. It’s over so quickly it barely wets the ground. Just when he makes the decision to try the sheriff, his phone rings.

“Hello?”

_“Derek?”_

“Yes, Dr. Winter, what can I do for you?”

_“I have a young man in my waiting room who refuses to leave. He’s been here since you left this morning and he says that he wants to talk to me about you. I believe he might be your mate. At least he says his name’s Stiles. There can’t be many people with that name.”_

Derek sighs. “Tall, lanky, with moles everywhere?” His first reaction is relief. If Stiles is at Dr. Winter’s office, he must be safe and sound. Then he wonders how he got there. Did he follow him?

_“That’s the one. Did you tell him about me?”_

“No. I don’t know how he found out.”

_“Do I have your permission to confirm the fact you’re seeing me? So far I’ve neither denied nor confirmed that I know you. In fact I haven’t spoken to him at all yet. But he’s making my assistant very nervous.”_

“Well, if he’s there, then there’s no point denying it. So yes, don’t insult his intelligence by pretending you don’t know me.”

 _"Thank you. Would you mind terribly if I actually talked to him? He’s already involved and obviously quite keen to participate. So, all your considerations about making him feel obligated are rather redundant. Talking to him would be invaluable to me. Naturally I won’t_ divulge _any information but I’d like to ask him some questions. Do I have your permission?”_

Derek knows he should feel angry about the whole situation. What gives Stiles the right to pry into his private life? They’re not that close anymore. But all he feels is a strange amused resignation. There’s nothing that can be kept from Stiles if he puts his mind to it. The idea that Stiles has enough interest in him still to spy on him makes him feel warm inside rather than annoyed. “You know what, why not? He’s there anyway. Knock yourself out.”

 

*** * * * ***

 

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER  _

General impression:

The subj. turns up as a surprise visitor, who insists on seeing me without an appointment and spends 3h  pacing in the waiting room despite my refusal until I relent (with Derek's permission). He is polite but determined. He is a 22 y. old, younger-looking, human male of approx 5’10, dressed in khaki pants, white t-shirt and an unbuttoned plaid shirt. His hair is styled with product to an artful mess and he is clean-shaven and well-groomed. Although he accepts a chair, he remains perched on the edge with what appears to be nervous energy rather than discomfort. His upper body, especially his hands and arms, are in perpetual motion, as is one of his legs which is constantly tapping the floor.

****

Known background

The subj.’s name is Stiles Stilinski. He dismisses questions as to his real first name with an air of long-suffering habit. At the age of 17 he was declared emissary of Beacon Hills by both the McCall and the Hale pack but has yet to step forward in that role for either of them. At the moment he does not even reside in BH, but at Stanford where he is reading criminology and psychology on a full scholarship due to outstanding grades. He is the mate of patient Derek Hale and the son of Sheriff Stilinski, who came to see me on Derek's behalf last week. There is very little physical resemblance between father and son.

 

Transcript from the recording:

AW: This is highly irregular. You can’t just barge in here. My sessions are very private and very confidential. How did you get here?

SS: I have a car. Well, when I say car, it’s really a piece of junk held together by duct tape and… well that’s pretty much it. There’s more duct tape in that car than metal. But it’s mine and I had it since I was sixteen. I’m sentimental like that.

AW: That didn’t answer my question.

SS: What question?

AW: How did you get here?

SS: I drove. In said duct-taped car.

AW: How did you find out about me?

SS: I followed Derek. Well, when I say I followed Derek, what I really mean is that I followed his phone. I downloaded a ‘find my phone’ app on his cell when he was in the shower. You never know when it comes in handy. He does tend to get himself into trouble a lot.

AW: Derek is a highly respected member of the community, who has been the alpha of a well-functioning pack for some time now.

SS ( _grinning widely_ ): Yeah, amazing, isn’t it? I always knew he had it in him. Who would have thunk though? When I met him he was such a weirdo, always lurking and threatening and getting himself kidnapped. Hence the app.

AW: Mr. Stilinski. Why are you here?

SS: I wanna… I wanna tell you about Derek, so that you don’t get the wrong impression. He makes a terrible first impression, all that scowling and being mono-syllabic. And the eyebrows, don’t get me started on the eyebrows.

AW: I hope I won’t get you started on anything, I might never get out of here. And I would be a pretty poor councilor if I went by first impressions and it also doesn’t really matter what I think. Derek isn’t here to impress me. But why don’t you tell me about Derek? If you’re so concerned I’ll get the wrong impression, tell me about him.

SS: Okay, what do you wanna know?

AW: I don’t know. You came in here insisting on talking to me, what did you want to say?

SS: Uhm… okay… Derek's a good guy. One of the best. Maybe _the_ best. He just doesn’t know it. He would literally die for people and not think twice about it. You have to get him out of that. It’s not healthy, not healthy at all, s’all I’m saying.

AW: I see. And what gives you such an insight into Derek?

SS: I’m his mate. Didn’t you know that? It’s all official like, with all the right rituals and oaths and marking. ( _upset_ ) Did you really not know that?

AW: And what does being his mate mean to you?

SS: Well, I’m obviously human, so I suppose it’s not quite the same as it is for Derek. But he claimed me. Publicly. I was quite upset when I found out, to be honest, because we weren’t together at the time and he didn’t give the impression he even wanted to be together. But then we did – get together that is – and it was awesome. We were together for eight months. And I saw him every day, and it was… awesome. Did I mention how awesome it was?

AW: You didn’t answer my question. What does being Derek's mate mean to _you_?

SS: I… I like that it’s forever. I want to keep Derek… I’ve lost people… and he’s the most important person in my life. I mean, there’s my dad and Scott and Lydia, but Derek… Derek is special. I was really hoping I could keep him, like a kitten or a puppy that follows you home.

AW: I see. So why didn’t you?

SS: Why didn’t I what?

AW: Keep him. You’ve been at Stanford for nearly four years. Are you and Derek still together?

SS: No.

AW: Did he break up with you?

SS: Well, he can’t, can he? For him this mate thing is for life. He can’t just turn around and say he lost interest.

AW: So you did it for him? He lost interest and you broke up with him because _he_ couldn’t?

SS: That’s _not_ what happened. Did he say that’s what happened? Because that’s not it, like, at all.

AW: Then what _did_ happen?

SS: I don’t know. I was happy. But Derek was always so… reluctant. I had to persuade him to get together. Did he tell you that? And then I had to persuade him to have sex with me and not just the first time, _every_ time. It was like… I know he has issues. I know every person he’s been with is dead. And except for Paige, they were just using him. And for the longest time, I thought he was worried I’d do the same. But I don’t think he didn’t trust _me_. I think he didn’t trust _himself_. He thought he’d turn into Kate, not with the burning the house down but with the taking advantage of someone younger. He was always so careful. I knew what I was doing and I knew what I wanted. But he always made it seem like that could change at any moment. It was so strange. He trusted me with his life, and his secrets and his body, but he didn’t trust me to know my own mind. And he wouldn’t make the tiniest assumption. Like if I liked something one day, he would ask me again the next day, in case I changed my mind. And it just came over as… I don’t know, it made me feel like such an asshole. As if I was too young to decide what I like or just changed my mind all the time for the sheer fun of messing with him. And I’m actually pretty loyal and steady. I don’t like change, never have. Change’s never good in my experience.

AW: I see. So the issue was your age?

SS: No, I don’t think so. The issue was that Derek looked at me and saw himself. And let me tell you, he doesn’t like himself much. And he looked at himself and he saw Kate. And he liked Kate even less. With good reason. Fucking psycho bitch.

AW: So he liked neither himself nor you?

SS: Derek _loved_ me. Okay? With everything he had. I was never in any doubt about that. It was there in every look and every touch and every gesture. Of course, he never said it, so it could’ve been just wishful thinking, but I don’t think so. It was funny how hard he tried to hide how much he loved me. Or it would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad.

AW: Is that why you left him? Because he wouldn’t admit that he loved you?

SS: He did admit it. All the time. Everybody knew. He didn’t have to say it. I always tried to make it obvious that I didn’t expect it, so there were no awkward pauses afterwards when I said it. I figured he maybe said it to Kate and it felt weird saying it to someone else afterwards. She burned his family, for crying out loud. And he thought he loved her. Or maybe he even did love her. So I could excuse him from saying it.

AW: But?

SS: But what?

AW: There must have been a reason you left him.

SS: I felt dirty.

AW: Dirty? In what way?

SS: In every way. We had a lot of sex, okay? I was a teenager. I could have happily foregone everything else in my life just to have sex with Derek on a full-time basis. Well, except maybe curly fries. You need something to keep up your stamina if you have that much sex. Curly fries are a serious consideration in this context. In every context really. Can’t beat curly fries.

AW: Mr. Stilinski.

SS: Right. So we had a lot of sex. But it was always me who made the first move. Don’t get me wrong, he was always happy to join in, but he didn’t really start anything, like, _ever_. He would come really close but he wouldn’t kiss me first if I didn’t indicate somehow that that’s what I wanted. In the end, _I_ felt like I was Kate. Like I was taking advantage of him. That maybe he was just lonely. I mean I knew he was in love with me but I thought that maybe he wasn’t ready for it.

AW: So you left him because of that? To shield him from a relationship you thought he wasn’t ready for?

SS: No. I left him because he told his beta to leave me at home when shit went down. I was just at the end of my tether, you know? He drives me so mad. He rushes headlong into any danger that comes his way but, god forbid, anyone else breaks a nail. That makes him go into total meltdown because, naturally, it must be all his fault.

AW: I see.

SS: I know. It seems petty. I just wanted… ( _shrugs_ )

AW: You wanted what?

SS: Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.

AW: …

SS: … I’ve been to counseling before, you know. The silent treatment won’t make me talk. Also my dad’s the sheriff. I know every interrogation technique known to man. 

AW: Can you tell me why you went to counseling before?

SS: Sure.

General session notes:

Stiles talks about having panic attacks after his mother died and receiving counseling for that. The attacks persist but are rare nowadays. His mother’s death was hard on him and has left him with a deep-seated fear of abandonment. He has a hard time letting go of people who are important to him. In this context he mentions his friend Scott McCall, who has remained in BH when Stiles went to college, his father, and Derek.

Stiles has a high capacity for shouldering blame. He blames himself for his mother’s death although he doesn’t go into detail ( _how was this not addressed during the counseling he received after her death? It is fairly common in bereaved children_ ). He blames himself for his friend getting bitten by a werewolf (it was his idea to go into the woods on the night that S.M. was bitten). He’s worried about his father (his physical health and being lonely without his support). He feels guilty about dating Derek _and_ about ending the relationship. He worries that S.M.’s pack may be in danger without him being in BH (he doesn’t think much of S.M.’s mental prowess) and also that the Hale pack and Derek in particular may lose some of their standing because he is no longer around. The last one may have some merit since he’s not just their emissary but also the alpha’s mate.

He talks freely of his relationship with Derek. When he does, he goes into a lot of details that are not pertinent, describing particular episodes in their lives together that he found memorable in some way, usually because they amused him. By all accounts they more or less lived together despite Stiles’s age at the time. His father’s tacit approval has already been documented. Stiles’s explanation is that his father is a busy man and was glad that someone was keeping an eye on his son.

When prompted, Stiles talks about his father with much love, but also some bitterness he’s trying to hide. It seems that after the death of his mother, Stiles cared for his father, who has already admitted to not coping well (drinking problems). Stiles effectively became the parent for a while and spent an extraordinary amount of time at the police station. He has a deep fear of losing his father through death (either through the dangers of his profession or his health). But he also appears to have issues of inadequacy, feeling that his father would have preferred a different “less challenging” child, namely S.M.

He’s especially hurt by the friendship that has developed between his father and Derek without his knowledge (he found out only yesterday). While admitting that he’s avoided talking about Derek to anyone since they separated, he feels that his father should have mentioned it to him. The fact that he didn’t makes Stiles feel excluded from his life to a point that he feels it was a deliberate attempt to get back at him for the secrecy he displayed as a teenager. At no point does he blame Derek for his role in the situation. This may be because he hadn’t spoken to Derek for four years until very recently (he is unaware that Derek has been watching over him during that time) or because secrecy was never an issue between them. It is, however, a big issue between him and his father.

The conversation brings into focus how protective Stiles feels about Derek. He wants to shield Derek from all harm, physical or emotional. He also wants to ensure that Derek is liked and understood by others. This appears to be the reason he followed him here today and insisted on speaking with me.

Stiles Stilinski is a very bright young man with a flair for reading other people. He is good at spotting nuances and has the ability spin a conversation in the direction he wants it to go which would confound most people. His attachment to Derek is obvious despite his efforts to hide it ( _why?_ ). He seems like a troubled young man in the sense of actually being troubled by many issues he feels deeply about. What appears to be nervousness at first is a manifestation of his hyperactivity (he was diagnosed with ADHD at an early age) rather than uncertainty or lack of confidence. He uses his rambling speech pattern and the jumps in his thought processes to control the conversation with great effect. He is a very impressive young man.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**7.**

 

By the time Stiles returns to the house it’s nearly dinnertime. Derek puts his book down and walks out onto the veranda, watching the Jeep roll into the space next to the Camaro. Everyone else has already finished work and is busy cleaning up for dinner. Stiles slowly gets out of his car but doesn’t approach, leaning against it and playing nervously with his keys, so Derek makes his way down to the gravel area.

“Heeey,” Stiles says, stretching the word and producing a smile as wide as it is fake. “How much trouble am I in?”

Derek crosses his arms and just looks at him. He’s still not sure how he feels about this. He should be angry. He _is_ angry. Nobody has the right to pry into his affairs. But there’s some part of him that thinks that if Stiles made the effort to follow him all the way to Dr. Winter’s office, then he must care about him to some extent. Derek’s a private person but his main concern about his counseling is how it will affect people’s treatment of him if they find out. Being an alpha is also partly about the perception of others. But with Stiles he doesn’t have those concerns because ever since they became mates, he’s considered Stiles his confidant, a sounding board for his ideas and worries. That’s never changed and his trust remains unaffected by time and distance. He’s happy to share anything with Stiles if he wants it and that includes all his secrets, such as they are.

Stiles licks his lower lip and it conveniently breaks Derek's concentration. He’s not even sure if Stiles is doing it for that purpose.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles sounds sincere. “You know me. I can’t let any mystery remain mysterious. When Cora said you do this every Monday, I was intrigued. I was just gonna see if I can solve this mystery. And then I saw where you went and I wanted to make sure that she likes you. You know you make a terrible first impression. I just told her how nice you are.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You wanted to make sure that Dr. Winter… _likes_ me.”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiles at him winningly. “Or understands you or whatever. You know, so that she doesn’t write in her little notebook that you’re a weirdo creeper.”

“Because weirdo creeper is the first impression people have of me.”

Stiles pouts a little. “Well, I did.”

“I see.”

“But not anymore, not at all. Now you’re just this super hot guy that everyone swoons over.” He grins but looks a little flustered at the same time and then blushes.

“Did Cora put you up to this?”

“Uhm… there may have been a bet involved.”

“And what did you win?”

“Nothing, obviously. I think the implication was that I’d find out where you go every week and once I found out, I’d actually tell her. Since I’m not gonna do that, I doubt she’ll be willing to cough up the twenty bucks.”

“I’ll give you the twenty bucks if you never mention it to me either.”

Stiles’s smile is soft. “I think what you’re doing is great. And you don’t need to pay me. My lips are sealed.” He chortles when Derek just raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I promise.”

 

 

Derek doesn’t sleep well. Granted, sleeping has been a problem for most of his adult life but it’s doubly so with Stiles in his bed – which is a complete reversal of how it used to be when they were together. In the morning, he spends an hour just watching Stiles sleep, debating whether he could get away with pretending to be still asleep and scooting close to him. After all, Stiles has done it for the past two nights, so it seems only fair. He misses being that close to Stiles, misses being so intimate that it would be welcome and appreciated. It’s hard not being able to bridge that last bit of distance between them when they’re _sharing a bed_ for fuck’s sake. But in the end he decides that he can’t be that guy. He can’t dispense unwanted attention under false pretenses – or any circumstances really. Thinking about Kate licking his abs when he couldn’t do anything to stop her still makes him feel queasy. It was worse than the physical pain she was putting him through at the time.

But he allows himself the indulgence of looking at the long, dark eyelashes fanned over pale cheeks, the nostrils flaring a little on every inhale and the full lips moving in a silent utterance. Derek smiles despite a sharp longing to kiss, to touch, to taste, remembering again how they used to wake up together – as he does every morning whether Stiles is here or not. And then he’s suddenly looking into whiskey-colored eyes, very much open and attentive. In his contemplation, he somehow missed the signs of Stiles waking up.

“Hey,” Stiles says with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Derek answers simply. His cheeks warm with a deep blush at being caught out like this, but he can’t tear himself away from those eyes.

“Can I touch you?”

From one second to the next, Derek can feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest. His voice is a bit rougher than usual when he says, “If you do, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

At first Stiles’s hand goes to his cheek, palming it, warm and soft, making Derek lean into it involuntarily with his eyes closed. The simple touch is the most intimate gesture he’s felt in a long time. Even though he’s pretty tactile with the pack, as he’s been accustomed to from his childhood, it’s not the same as being touched by someone for his own pleasure and comfort. He tries to keep himself perfectly still, so that Stiles won’t stop. _Please don’t stop._ And Stiles doesn’t. He doesn’t even stop _there_. Instead he edges closer in increments, until he can finally wrap his arms around Derek's neck and kiss him gently. Derek responds by putting his hand around Stiles’s middle onto his lower back and yanking him flush against his body. And suddenly there’s nothing gentle about their kisses any longer. Instead they’re urgent and hungry, desperate.

Ordinarily Derek would pause and ask Stiles if he’s sure but right now all he can think of is getting closer. As it has been from day one, he’s always too far away. When he was watching Stiles from a distance, he thought he’d be happy if he could just be in the same room with him, when he was in the same room, he wanted to be touching and now that they’re touching, he wishes he could fuse them together somehow, crawl into Stiles’s skin and never leave.

Stiles seems just as frantic. His hands roam over Derek's body relentlessly, touching everywhere and leaving trails of tingly shivers, before they start pulling down his sweatpants. Derek tears Stiles’s t-shirt because it means their lips can stay connected while it comes off. Stiles chuckles a hot breath against his mouth and makes short work of his own boxers. Then Derek rolls on top of him into the space Stiles makes by spreading his legs with practiced ease as if no time has passed since the last time they did this.

For a moment Stiles slows down to card his hand through Derek’s hair. “I can never remember the exact color of your eyes. You’re so beautiful.”

Derek lowers his forehead against Stiles’s shoulder. Sometimes, being told that he’s attractive makes him uncomfortable because at the back of his mind he wonders whether Kate wouldn’t have targeted him if he wasn’t. But it’s different with Stiles, whose appreciation for his looks came after the mistrust and animosity. It developed completely in the eye of the beholder and that gives it added meaning.

Stiles pushes a little until Derek allows himself to be rolled back so that Stiles ends up on top, kissing him desperately again. Blindly rummaging through the bedside cabinet with one hand, Derek finally locates the lube and thrusts it into Stiles’s palm. He doesn’t care one way or the other who gets lubed where – as long as it’s happening soon. It seems they’re on the same page when Stiles starts spreading liberal amounts on Derek's cock while not caring that it also drips onto his lower stomach, his thighs and the sheet in his haste. Derek’s shaking with arousal and anticipation by the time he’s finished. Some part of him desperately wants to slow down and savor this.

However, when he gets his wish with a pause in the proceedings while Stiles stretches upright on his knees so he can reach behind to prepare himself, it’s suddenly not going fast enough. Taking deep calming breaths, Derek puts one hand firmly on Stiles’s waist to hold him up while the other is trailing the moles on his torso with his index finger. There was a time when he would have been able to do this without looking and even now, after all this time, a lot of it is just muscle memory, familiar in a way that’s both painful and reassuring.

“You ready?” Stiles asks, still up on his knees to make it easier for Derek. When he gets a silent nod as confirmation, he slowly sinks down on Derek's cock.

It’s almost too much. Derek hasn’t had sex with another person in way too long. But it’s not just that. It’s being with _Stiles_ , being _inside_ Stiles. He didn’t think he’d ever have that again. It’s frighteningly overwhelming. He moans and Stiles smiles one last time before finding his rhythm and then Derek's mind goes blank of anything other than rampant, single-minded desire.

 

 

Breakfast is a quiet affair despite all of them being gathered around the big table in the kitchen. The pack seems more worried than any of them are admitting. Even Tabitha is fretful until Derek settles her on his lap.

“Is that an alpha thing?” Stiles asks, gesticulating with his knife in the general direction of the baby before spreading his toast with disgusting amounts of peanut butter.

“We hope so,” Cal nods. “It’s a good sign that she may be a werewolf. Or maybe she just likes Derek.”

“It suits you,” Stiles smirks, looking at Derek. It’s the first time they’ve made eye contact since they had sex earlier.

Derek rolls his eyes then looks away. After they both came down from their blissful high, neither one of them really knew what to say. They fell back on awkward politeness of the _you-can-shower-first_ variety. He wishes he knew what to say or even just have the courage to ask outright questions. He’d dearly like to know what it meant other than that they were both horny – if it meant anything at all to Stiles. But he doesn’t think he’s ready for the answer just yet. Stiles’s mixture of signals – friendly banter, apparent genuine interest, gentle flirting, hasty retreats – is very confusing and the sex was so fast and frantic that it could mean anything from desperate feelings to simple physical need. Derek doesn’t easily forget that sex can mean different things to different people.

The pack is amazingly discreet, considering they can all smell what went on in Derek's bedroom. When he came downstairs, Cora just gave him a long sad look, while the others shuffled around him in such an embarrassed way it’s not even funny. Derek doesn’t care that they know. The pack got used to Cal and Valeska smelling of sex near enough every day and the same is true for Isaac whenever he’s been with Allison. It’s a young pack with all the betas just out of their teens. It’s natural. The only one who was ever remotely self-conscious about it was Isaac, the only one not accustomed to it from birth. But even he got used to it. It’s not the fact that Derek had sex that makes them awkward, it’s whom he had sex with. Just like him, the pack’s unsure what it all means.

After they’ve eaten, they load Stiles’s Jeep with all the essentials, while the whole pack crowds around Tabitha to say goodbye as if she won’t be with them again soon. Then Derek and Stiles and the baby are alone in the car without the buffer of other people around. Derek turns over words in his head without uttering any of them as the images from this morning superimpose themselves on his thoughts. The silence seems to slowly suck the air out of the small space. Derek dearly wishes that Stiles would say something, anything, even some unrelated babbling would be more than welcome.

Uncharacteristically Stiles remains quiet until nearly the end. “Don’t worry about her,” he says when they reach the police station. “My dad’s good with kids.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve seen him with you.”

Stiles chuckles and it finally breaks the ice.

When Derek has occasion to visit the police station, he usually just gets waved through but unsurprisingly Stiles has a different approach. He chats amiably with every deputy on duty, leaving Derek to drag his feet behind him for a full twenty minutes. Derek is on polite to friendly terms with everyone in the squad but this is Stiles’s home turf. He practically grew up here and it shows in how comfortable – and popular – he is.

Eventually they drop off Tabitha, her food and diapers with the sheriff. Stilinski pulls her baby rocker next to his desk chair and starts cooing over her immediately while Stiles gives long-winded instructions, first about caring for the baby, then about the large jar of mountain ash he places on the desk. “It needs to be a continuous line. Are you listening, Dad? Once it’s down, no werewolf can enter. And if they send a human, just shoot them.”

Stiles’s father doesn’t take his eyes off the baby. “I think Tabitha will be quite safe. You two just go off and sort this mess out so this little cutie can go home to her mommies.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Derek says solemnly.

“Any time, son,” Stilinski says, looking up to smile at him but soon getting distracted by the baby again.

Stiles gives his dad a long look before saying goodbye and walking back to the car. Derek follows him at a leisurely pace but when he slides into the passenger seat, Stiles just sits there without starting the car, looking out the window. Derek routinely checks the perimeter.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” As Stiles makes a move towards turning the ignition, Derek stays his hand.

“Don’t do that. What’s up?”

Again Stiles looks out the side window, then out the front and finally throws up his hands. “Sometimes it feels like anyone but me would be preferable, you know?”

 _Not to me. Quite the opposite._ “I need more context.”

“Really? We’ve just been to see my dad and you need more context? Do you need me to draw little illustrations as well? Just forget it. It’s not important.”

Derek keeps his hand on the key when Stiles tries to turn it again. “It _is_ important. Your dad loves you. You must know that.”

“I do,” Stiles answers miserably.

It suddenly feels a little uncomfortable how much he likes it when the sheriff goes paternal on him, like he’s pushing into Stiles’s relationship with his dad. “But I will go as far as to agree that sometimes he can be a little… insensitive.”

Stiles’s head jerks up and he stares at Derek, listening intently.

“Your dad has a habit of saying stuff he doesn’t mean. Part of it is being a sheriff. It almost comes with the job to speak to people even strangers a certain way. And then there are some things that happened between you two that are unfathomable to him professionally. He just doesn’t get you. And I’ve seen him with Scott, not so much now but when you were still around and he did sometimes give the impression that he trusted Scott more and maybe even wished for you to be a little more like him. But that’s just his way of coping when you were being… difficult – in his eyes. He didn’t mean it then and he doesn’t mean it now. I haven’t taken over from you as his son. I couldn’t if I tried. You’ll always be the most important person in his life. And deep down you know that. Maybe you should tell him sometime that he’s out of line. It isn’t too much to ask that he doesn’t go round calling everyone _son_ in front of you.”

Stiles looks at his lap. “You’ve no idea how hard it is. Everyone thinks he’s wonderful. Nobody ever sees any fault with him. Scott idolized him. Even Melissa always told me how lucky I was. And I am. I know that. I really do. I love my dad and I know that he loves me. And I know what he’s done for me and that he’d do anything for me still. But sometimes I just feel so…”

“...Hurt?”

There’s a silent nod accompanied by a nervous scratching behind the ear.

“My dad used to call me Roger,” Derek volunteers.

Stiles snorts. “Why?”

“Roger Rabbit. Because of my teeth. I hated it. I know he was just trying to be funny and trying to build a man-to-man relationship with me, where we make fun of each other. I knew it then as well. And that made it so hard. He didn’t mean anything by it. In the end I told him and he stopped. He even apologized but that was just as embarrassing as asking him to stop. I’m still glad I did it though. Sometimes it’s harder to stand up to the people you love than it is to stand up to outsiders.”

“You know, this is the first time anybody's ever agreed with me that I may have a genuine grievance.” His smile is an unspoken thank-you and when he turns the key, Derek lets him. As he’s backing the Jeep out of the parking spot, he adds with a grin, “And your teeth are cute.”

Derek huffs a laugh and tries to ignore how his cheeks heat with a blush.

When they return to the house, they all play poker for an hour to pass the time until their guests arrive. It stops them from over-thinking the coming negotiations and it’s a good exercise. Derek wins convincingly, mainly because he can bluff better than the others. Cora is the hardest for him to read, but luckily she has a tell, more of a feeling she gives off than anything she does. Stiles refused to play in the first place with a snorted, “Yeah, like I’m stupid enough to bet money on a game with a bunch of walking lie detectors. Get real.” But he happily watches them, making sarcastic remarks all the way through.

“Car,” Cal says eventually and hastily gathers the deck to store it out of sight.

As previously discussed, Isaac and Cora are guarding the rear. Derek wants Cal at the forefront of everything that happens to emphasize how important her input in the matter is. Valeska is there because he expects her to be the main focus of the Morettis. And with Stiles there as well, the welcoming committee will be quite impressive even with two pack members out of sight.

They form a line on the veranda and Derek folds his arms, watching the SUV approach and park on the gravel. Next to him Stiles’s heartbeat is an anxiety-fueled mess, which is good because it will allow him to hide any other emotions. It worked well for him at the parley.

He recognizes Marsha Moretti as she exits the vehicle. The other three are unknown to him although he thinks he’s seen the human woman and the male beta before at the funeral. The other beta was probably there as well, but he doesn’t remember her. After a moment’s assessment of the situation, they all move towards the house and Derek can see that even though the betas are very young, they work well together.

Unexpectedly Stiles steps forward to the edge of the veranda. “Welcome to the Hale territory. We are pleased to extend our hospitality. Leave your weapons by the door and all will be well.”

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Stiles knows all the ritual words. He’s always liked to be prepared. Of course the words are just that, a ritual. Since they’re all werewolves nobody can leave their ‘weapons’ by the door. It’s more of a promise that if the visitors don’t shift in the house, they’ll be quite safe. Going against the ritualistic promise has dire consequences.

“We thank you for the honor of your hospitality,” the human says. “My name is Andrea Sartori. I am the emissary of the Moretti pack. This is our alpha Marsha Moretti and two of her betas Olivia Vitario and Pablo Cordani.”

“Welcome Alpha Moretti, to you and your betas. Welcome to you also Emissary Sartori. I am Emissary Stilinski. This is our alpha Derek Hale and two of his betas, Callista McKenzie and Valeska Curnock.”

There’s a mutual flashing of the eyes to indicate their positions. The female beta has blue eyes, the male one’s are yellow. Interesting.

“Please enter our home and take refreshments.” Stiles makes an inviting gesture and the other pack steps onto the veranda and into the house. With the formalities out of the way, Marsha greets Derek politely before turning to Valeska whom she’s known for years. Valeska seems happy enough to exchange pleasantries so Derek just silently brings up the rear while Stiles leads the way into the living room.

“Would you like to freshen up in your rooms before we start?”

“That would be great,” the other emissary says.

That’s surprising. Derek took Marsha for a very straight forward person who’d want to get down to business as soon as possible. Maybe she’s decided on a more circumventive course of action. She happily follows Stiles upstairs to look at the rooms. Andrea and Pablo accompany her, while Olivia goes back out to the car to fetch their bags. Derek sends Cal with her and takes a seat in the centrally placed armchair. Valeska looks at him questioningly, seating herself on one the couches in the corner nearest to him. He smiles reassuringly and she looks grateful, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

He watches Olivia and Cal take the bags upstairs while listening to the voices above. Stiles is chatting about clean towels and toilet paper, as well as dinner plans. Andrea’s answers are a little bemused. When his betas come in from watching the back, Derek looks at Isaac and makes a wavy motion with his hands, indicating female curves and Isaac immediately nods and takes the stairs two at a time to mark the female beta. A moment later Stiles can be heard making deliberately unctuous introductions. In his mind’s eye Derek can practically see him slinging his arm around Isaac’s shoulders and grinning broadly.

When everyone’s making their way downstairs, Derek and Valeska rise politely from their seats for a few moments until everyone is seated. To his surprise, Marsha bypasses the armchair at the other end of the seating area and settles on the couch opposite Valeska, foregoing status for proximity to her target. Instead, her emissary takes the armchair, while Olivia sits next to her alpha with Isaac taking the last seat on the couch. Pablo sits down next to Cal, the two of them filling the spaces next to Valeska. Only two people remain standing. One is Cora, who stays near the door, half watching the proceedings, half focusing on the outside. The other is Stiles, who’s standing next to Derek's chair, and now starts the long process of recounting the pack’s history, which apparently requires a lot of gesticulating and not standing still for more than five seconds at any point. He starts with the Hales but doesn’t leave out any of the betas and even himself. It’s tradition but Derek didn’t realize how much Stiles knows about all of them, considering he’s only just gotten to know half of his betas. Eventually he decides from the way the information is skewed that Cal must have been Stiles’s source.

Derek vividly remembers the bits that Stiles leaves out. How Valeska approached him not long after Stiles left and asked him for sanctuary. Much as he just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery, he couldn’t very well refuse it. She told him that she’d found a mate but that her parents were against the match and that she wanted to join his pack because he was the only one she knew who could stand against her parents. Derek had hesitated. Granting sanctuary was one thing, taking another pack’s beta as his own was quite another. But she introduced him to Cal and Cal was a beta any pack would value or maybe he was just lonely enough and hurting enough from losing Stiles to crave having a pack more than ever, so he agreed.

Warren Curnock turned up a week later, appealing to Derek's reason at first, then turning quietly menacing. It was unclear what exactly he was threatening, other than getting him ostracized from the community. In some ways Derek was spoiling for a fight – that never came. Instead he put his energy into finishing the house with his new pack members and the two remaining ones from his old packs. The werewolf community seemed to respect him more rather than less now. It turned out that there were many packs who resented the Curnocks and their undisputed rise to the leadership after the death of his parents. Somehow the idea that Derek was the Chosen One was also making the rounds and it went a long way to boosting his reputation. When he was approached for his first mediation, he was so surprised he agreed before he had time to think it through. After all, it was what his mother had done all her life.

But this isn’t mediation. This is a dispute where he’s very much one of the invested parties, so it’s very personal. This is one fight he must win at all costs. He watches the other pack looking at Stiles askance, sometimes shaking their heads and then trying to re-focus. He knows what has them so confused: despite being human he’s almost impossible to read because his heartbeat is so fast from his habitual anxiety. Some humans learn to lie without giving themselves away – a skill Deaton has mastered to perfection – but Stiles doesn’t even have to try and judging from the way he weaves together the truth with omissions and outright lies, he’s well aware of it.

Derek would also like to think that Stiles’s simple presence is throwing the Morettis off guard, which was part of his plan. If they’ve researched his pack at all – and they most certainly have – they would have come to the conclusion that the Hale pack lost their emissary and their alpha’s mate four years ago, weakening it considerably. And yet here he is, very much filling his role and thanks to Stiles’s foresight smelling decidedly of his mate. Hopefully, they’re still trying to adjust to the unexpected situation. When Stiles has finished his account, he perches on the arm of Derek's chair, causing everyone to stare at him, even his own pack. Negotiations aren’t usually quite this casual.

Stiles seems blissfully oblivious, looking expectantly at Andrea until she starts a similar account of the Morettis’ history. Valeska has told them that the Morettis are known for their reclusiveness. Even the Curnocks only know them from official werewolf business and polite neighborly contacts. The reason she and Marco were close had more to do with both of them being in the same grade throughout their whole school career and being the only werewolves in the school apart from her sisters and his younger cousins. And yet Andrea makes it sound like the Curnocks and the Morettis have lived in each others’ pockets for the past couple of decades at least and they have affiliations to many others. Obviously Andrea can also lie without giving herself away.

She hesitates a little when Stiles shifts back somewhat so he can drape his forearm along the back of the armchair. Derek can feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising as his skin there comes into contact with Stiles’s. When he has everyone’s attention, Stiles pulls his arm back far enough so that he can drop his hand casually on Derek's shoulder. Derek tries not to think of Stiles’s hands on other parts of his body and concentrates on calming his heartbeat instead. He glances at Cora, who’s glaring daggers from over by the door, before he turns to Stiles and receives an impish smile and a barely-there wink. _What the actual fuck?_

“Pray continue.” Stiles smiles at Andrea as if he’s not aware that he’s causing a stir.

Andrea has momentarily halted in her tale but recovers fairly quickly. Derek suppresses a smile when Stiles squeezes his shoulder briefly before withdrawing to cross his arms. Yes, that little display has definitely thrown the Morettis for a loop. Derek can live with that even if he hates that Stiles has yet again faked intimacy for ulterior motives. He wants the real thing or nothing at all.

When Andrea has finished talking, there’s a pause in which Stiles blatantly ignores that it’s his turn to address the issue at hand in favor of smiling fondly at Derek as if he’s forgotten what they’re here for. Derek only becomes aware of what he’s doing when he turns to look at him after following everyone else’s gaze. He really hopes that there’s some semblance of method in his seeming madness.

“Where’s the baby?” Marsha eventually blurts out in a harsh tone. “Why isn’t she here?”

Stiles returns her accusatory look with a smile. “Tabitha’s on her weekly play date. She just loves those. Did you want her to take part in the negotiations? That might prove a tad difficult on account of her not talking yet.”

“You know she’s the object of these negotiations. We have a right to have her present.”

“She will be,” Stiles returns still in a pleasant voice. “ _If_ we decide that there are going to _be_ negotiations.”

“Does he speak for you?” Marsha asked Derek, deciding to dismiss Stiles altogether.

Derek shrugs. “He _is_ our emissary.”

“He’s disrespectful.”

“I didn’t hear anything disrespectful in that statement. Tabitha’s one of our betas. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Who’s her father? Do you even know?”

Derek bristles at the implication that he doesn’t know his own pack, but Stiles answers before he can say anything. Moving both hands out in a jazz hands type gesture, he interjects with, “Woah, now who’s being disrespectful? Shall we back up a little and abide by the rules?”

All the members of the Moretti pack glare at Stiles. Eventually Andrea addresses Derek with a deferential, “Of course, we meant no disrespect, Alpha Hale. It was just a misapprehension. No slight was intended.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows to convey that he knows exactly what was meant and intended. “Of course,” he says sardonically, then turns to Stiles. “Pray continue.”

Stiles beams at him before engaging Andrea in a long-winded argument about pack integrity and how it relates to betas who aren’t of age yet. It’s mostly theoretical and takes up the better part of two hours. Derek has no idea where Stiles even got his information about ancient laws and precedents. Eventual they agree that yes, the Morettis are allowed to ask a few questions, while the answers remain at Derek's discretion.

Derek’s led many negotiations by now and his aim has always been to cut through the rhetoric and lay out the problem and the possible solutions in the clearest terms. Stiles seems to be intent on complicating every detail and to confuse and obfuscate as much as possible. Derek lets him, mainly because it seems to frustrate Marsha Moretti no end and frustrated people make mistake.

“And now I think it’s time to postpone this discussion until tomorrow,” Stiles finally says with mock sweetness, ignoring how everyone startles at the suggestion, the Hale pack from surprise, the Moretti pack from consternation. “It’s time to pick Tabitha up and also to prepare some food. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

Derek gets up to indicate that this isn’t up for debate and offers some platitudes as befits his status as host. Marsha Moretti stalks outside for ‘some fresh air’ in an obvious effort to remain calm. Andrea hurries after her, while Derek practically drags Stiles out to his Jeep, ignoring Cora’s attempts at catching his eye.

When they’ve driven well outside hearing range, Derek turns to Stiles, who’s driving too fast and hasn’t calmed down in the slightest. “Are you _trying_ to start a pack war?”

“I’m trying to keep Moretti from getting to the point.”

“I think we all noticed. Why?”

“Because I don’t think that what she will propose and what she really wants are the same thing. She’s up to something. Can’t you feel it?”

Derek thinks back on the afternoon. “She seems a little off. Not lying obviously but too… focused. She’s practically strumming with tension. But then she’s in another pack’s territory. That makes anyone a little twitchy.”

“Try shifty,” Stiles says. “And what does she have to be tense about? She’s here for negotiations. That means she’s protected by the laws of hospitality. She’s in Hale territory and that still means something in the community. Or rather it means something _again._ ” Here he gives Derek an approving look, which makes Derek's heart beat faster with pride. “And if things go wrong, she has a pack four or five times your size to back her up. She shouldn’t have to be so shifty.”

“It’s a wolf thing. Other pack’s territories make us uneasy.”

“Ah well, if it’s a _wolf_ thing…” Stiles snaps, suddenly inexplicably angry.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

It’s clearly not nothing, but they only have this short time to discuss the problem at hand before they have to get back, so Derek lets it slide. “And stopping her from stating her case is helping how exactly?”

“It’ll stop her from being subtle. She might just blurt out what she’s really after if we’re lucky.”

Derek shakes his head. “Or she’ll do something stupid and we’ll have to deal with it.”

“If she’s in the wrong, we’ll have support. Then her large pack won’t help her. For now we’ve managed to stop any progress in the negotiations until tomorrow. It gives us a whole evening to observe them.”

That seems like a good idea after all, so Derek nods his assent. He can stop Stiles’s strategy any time he likes. He knows that. But there’s still that inherent trust that he has in him. Stiles has always been a planner, who likes to be prepared for every eventuality. It usually wasn’t his fault when things went wrong. Derek is less convinced of his own plans. Always too many variables. So he’ll give Stiles some leeway.

At the station, Tabitha is happily gurgling in the rocker while the sheriff’s pulling faces at her. Nevertheless she strains towards Derek before he’s in the room properly and he walks over to pick her up as he mutters a greeting.

“Everything went okay,” Stiles says halfway between a question and a statement. He pockets the untouched bottle of mountain ash from the table as well as stowing the various baby paraphernalia in the bag.

“Of course,” his dad replies. “I’m a dab hand at babysitting.” He finally looks away from the child at his son. “How did it go at your end?”

“Early days yet.” Stiles watches with a pensive look as Derek handles the child, then turns back to his father. “Could you come out to the house tomorrow and just pay a general visit? Just for a few minutes. In uniform.”

“What for?”

“Show of strength.”

Derek’s bundled Tabitha securely into the crook of his neck and picked up the rocker with his other hand. He answers the sheriff’s questioning look with a nod, torn between feeling reassured that he has the last say and saddened for Stiles that his father doesn’t take his word for it. “Thank you for looking after her,” he says to gloss over the situation but knows full well that Stiles has noticed it, too.

Outside, Derek straps Tabitha into the car seat, while she’s ‘chatting’ to him in indistinct baby sounds. Even from where he’s leaning into the back seat of the car, he can feel a sense of sadness radiating off Stiles, who’s been dragging his feet behind him, before he dumps the baby stuff in the trunk and slides behind the wheel. Derek always finds Stiles’s sadness harder to bear than any of his other moods. He’d rather go ten rounds of a screaming argument than see Stiles upset, even when he’s not the cause.

“Your dad always refers to me when there’s anything to do with the pack,” he says as the Jeep weaves into the traffic.

“So he should, you’re the alpha,” Stiles says, sounding genuine.

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” Stiles says a little too fast.

Derek doesn’t answer. Does he really have the right to ask questions like this anymore?

“I was just looking at you with the baby and… it reminded me… you said you didn’t… ah, never mind I’m just all over the place right now – what else’s new?”

Derek suddenly realizes that Stiles thinks Derek lied to him when he said he didn’t want kids. “It’s been four years, Stiles.”

“You changed your mind?”

“My life changed. I have a pack now. I’m the alpha. Kids are part of that, even if they’re not necessarily my own in the strictest sense.”

“So it wasn’t because…”

“Because what?” Derek’s truly lost now. He has no idea what Stiles is getting at. Unless Stiles left because he wanted kids and thought he couldn’t have that with Derek? But Stiles was seventeen when they broke up. What seventeen year old breaks up with someone over hypothetical offspring?

“Nothing.”

“Stiles.”

“Leave me some of my dignity, will you?” Stiles sounds half-joking and half-angry.

Naturally Derek can’t press him after that. Everyone has a right to privacy and he’s no longer in a position where he can reasonably expect full disclosure from Stiles. Great! Another thing that he’ll ponder for weeks, examining every nuance of how it was said and how Stiles looked when he said it, wondering if he missed something, if this is a hint that he could have done something different and they’d still be together if he had.

When they get to the house, Derek hands Stiles the baby carrier, mouthing, “Don’t let go of her,” all the while cursing himself for getting too distracted by his emotions to discuss this when they were still out of earshot. Stiles nods solemnly, climbing out of the Jeep and fixing the carrier around himself. In the meantime, Derek removes Tabitha from her car seat and slides her carefully into the carrier, so that she’s facing Stiles, resting her cheek against his chest. Giving her time to get used to him suddenly seems like one of Stiles’s better plans. Derek can’t help but smile even though Stiles is looking down at the baby, cooing a little, and doesn’t notice.

Shielding Stiles and Tabitha with his body, he enters the house first, taking note of the position of everyone in the room with a quick glance. Isaac seems to be taking his task of marking Olivia very seriously. With one shoulder casually leaning against the wall, he’s engaged her in a conversation and favors her with his brightest smile and most sparkling eyes. Half a decade of not having to fear any physical acts of violence any longer and almost as long in a tight-knit pack and a functioning and loving relationship have given him a confidence that warms Derek whenever he sees it come to the fore. Olivia seems to feel the full force of his natural charm and is looking up at him almost adoringly.

Cora has less success with Pablo, who’s giving off vibes of anger or at least annoyance. Cal is in conversation with Andrea but nobody would be fooled that her attention is occupied by anything other than her mate across the room. She’s practically chomping at the bit to join Valeska and only manners and convention are keeping her from leaving her conversation partner.

Her behavior is understandable since Valeska is talking to Marsha and both of them are exuding waves of sadness. Derek only catches a few snatches as he enters, but their topic is obviously Marco and so it’s no wonder that they’re upset. Whatever else is going on during these negotiations, Derek never loses sight of the fact that the other pack is in mourning and how deeply affected Valeska is as well. She gives him a long look with eyes full of unshed tears, which prompts Derek to look at Cal, cutting his eyes back to Valeska for a fraction of a second. It’s enough. Cal gratefully excuses herself from Andrea with barely civil haste and makes her way over to her mate, taking her hand unobtrusively and calming her instantly. In the general shift of attention due to Derek's entrance, nobody pays much attention.

When Stiles moves up next to Derek, Marsha’s focus changes to such an extent that she completely abandons her conversation and stands up immediately. In the process she pats Valeska’s arm absently, causing Derek to growl just loud enough for her to become aware and hastily withdraw from the contact. Derek is very concerned with bodily autonomy nowadays. No one touches his betas without their expressed – or at least implied – consent. His warning has the added effect of putting the other pack on their guard which means that only Marsha approaches for now.

She is careful not to make any sudden movements as her eyes train on the baby until she’s close enough to touch. Derek moves uncomfortably to the side and Stiles – clever devil that he is – shifts closer to him and away from Marsha just as she’s stopped to peer at the child. It looks natural because he’s kind of sidling up to Derek as if he wants to cuddle and therefore doesn’t cause any offense. Derek plays along by placing his hand on Stiles’s lower back like he used to, stroking up and down a little and suppressing the thought of, _Now who’s faking intimacy for ulterior motives?_

“Can I touch her?” Marsha asks, trying to look into the baby’s face, which is half-hidden by Stiles’s protective hand cupping the back of her head.

“She’ll let you know when she’s ready,” Stiles says easily. “Right now, we all need to eat. I’m famished.” And with that he makes his way into the kitchen, taking care to pass behind Derek and away from Marsha, who’s looking after him with murder in her eyes.

Derek doesn’t know if he should be amused or concerned. When she looks at him accusingly, he smiles with a shrug and follows Stiles. Within a minute, all the Hale pack except Cora are in the kitchen preparing the dinner. Valeska and Cal are closest to Stiles but don’t question the fact that he’s holding their child.

As most of the food has been prepared in advance, the meal is ready and set out in the large dining room within half an hour. He can hear Cora, who stayed in the living room to keep an eye on their guests ask them to proceed into the dining room without any sign from him. It’s good to see how well the pack works together and that includes Stiles, who manages to find a seat between Valeska and Cal despite the Morettis’ best efforts that one of their number end up next to him.

Tabitha has gone to sleep safely tucked away against Stiles’s body with nothing but a tuft of her hair showing. Nevertheless Stiles manages to put away huge amounts of food, ignoring that he’s somewhat hampered in his movements.

Derek is sitting at the top of the table and makes polite chitchat with the other alpha. After so many turns as a mediator, he’s used to talking to people who are less than communicative and can always find a topic that’s neutral enough to not stir up any trouble but not so boring that the conversation stalls at the starting point. They talk about the community at large, in particular the recent upturn. The doom-laden mood of some years ago has recently given way to a more upbeat atmosphere. Although the werewolf population hasn’t increased objectively, many packs feel less beleaguered.

“Well, there’s a Hale pack again after a decade,” Stiles says with a proud smile at Derek.

To Derek's surprise, Marsha agrees. “I imagine that’s part of it. You are the oldest pack this side of the mountains. The responsibility must be weighing heavily on you, with you being so young.”

Derek blinks, partly at the backhanded compliment but also at her expression. _This side of the mountains_ is such an old-fashioned term, used mainly by very traditional wolves nowadays. His mother said it a lot, although she was very modern in most ways. It stems from a time when wolves isolated themselves and the terrain was all that shaped their lives. He misses his mother with a sudden fierce pang.

“Derek’s a natural,” Stiles pipes up.

The remark brings Derek out of his momentary reverie. “And naturally, my mate isn’t biased at all,” he jokes then adds more seriously, “I’m carrying on my family’s tradition. Age doesn’t come into it. It’s my legacy.” He won’t let her get away with the implication that he’s too young for the task.

Marsha seems dubious, but changes the subject back to more general topics. As far as dinners go, this is less awkward then some Derek's had in the past, except for the fact that whenever any of the other pack isn’t engaged in actual conversation, their eyes are firmly on Tabitha, who sleeps peacefully through the entire meal. As the minutes pass, he becomes more and more concerned about how focused their looks are.

It’s a struggle to get through the rest of the evening, having to watch the other pack trying to shift closer to the baby and not being able to put a stop to the proceedings in no uncertain terms. It’s all about keeping up appearances as it so often is with his kind. A lot depends on who can posture the most effectively.

Stiles is playing a very slow version of tag for two hours, staying out of reach of the other pack by throwing out increasingly ludicrous explanations why he has to move as soon as someone comes near his position. Having spotted dust on the leaves of a potted plant that needs to be wiped immediately must be the lowest point. Every time he moves, the Morettis regroup and somebody else tries to get close enough, which they only occasionally manage because the Hale pack are very good at intercepting.

Eventually Stiles simply gives a noisy yawn and makes his excuses for retiring to bed. The other pack all follow him upstairs with their eyes until he’s out of sight. A few minutes later Tabitha gives a loud squeal and Valeska beats a hasty retreat upstairs, while Cal heats up some baby food and follows her as soon as it’s done.

It comes as no great surprise that all the Morettis feign tiredness after that. Derek motions Isaac and Cora to get upstairs after them, but takes his time to secure the house and switch all the lights off. It wouldn’t do to appear too concerned. He finds Stiles sitting at the top of the stairs. Without a word Stiles indicates for him to pass, then spreads mountain ash along the step. It will stop any of the werewolf guests from entering their floor. Andrea, as a human, won’t be able approach quietly enough anyway, since none of the Hale pack will sleep much, but the added protection will be good to have.

He trails Stiles into his room.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**8.**

 

Being back in the bedroom together becomes awkward immediately as the haphazardly made bed gives a stark reminder of what happened that morning. Derek gestures for Stiles to use the bathroom first and changes the sheets while the shower is running. It won’t make much difference to him because he can smell it just as clearly from the laundry basket, but it might make Stiles feel better.

Stiles is wearing boxers and a t-shirt, rubbing his hair with a towel as he exits the bathroom followed by a cloud of billowing steam. When the house was re-built, Derek insisted on a water system that doesn’t run cold as he was moving in with what amounted to a bunch of teenagers at the time. The added expense turned out one of his better investments. He decides to make his shower a quick one because he’s less than comfortable with the idea of his senses being dulled by the running water while the Morettis are only one floor below. Obviously some of Stiles’s caution has transferred to him. It doesn’t seem likely any longer that this whole matter will be settled with no more than some small inconvenience to his pack.

He puts on his sweatpants and combs his hair with his fingers. There’s no point lingering in the bathroom. He’ll have to face Stiles eventually, but he decides to take the time to shave. It has nothing to do with wanting to look less scruffy or that Stiles used to complain about beard burn, if only jokingly. It’ll simply save time in the morning.

When he gets back into the bedroom, Stiles is already in bed, pretending that he’s not trying to sneak furtive glances at him as he moves around to set out his clothes for the morning and dump his old ones in the laundry basket. Finally he climbs into bed, sitting against the headboard next to Stiles.

The silence between them stretches over several minutes while neither one of them says anything or makes a move to switch the light off. Instead they’re playing eye-tag. Each of them is looking sideways out of the corner of his eyes, hastily looking away when the other does the same. It’s juvenile, but Derek isn’t convinced that their guests won’t try to listen in on any conversation they might have, so he can’t ease the situation by talking.

Eventually he just turns to look at Stiles properly. Stiles quickly averts his eyes but bites his lower lip in a futile attempt to stop himself from grinning. Derek can’t help but huff an amused laugh at that, causing Stiles to look at him fully. For a few moments both of them are grinning at the ridiculousness of the circumstances. It’s always been so effortless to laugh with Stiles. Derek misses the easy humor between them. He hasn’t been quite that comfortable with anyone, not even his betas, since Stiles left.

They both stop smiling at the same time, their stares turning into something more intense, questioning, hopeful, heated. Then Stiles leans in a little and Derek closes the distance for the kiss. He knows he shouldn’t do this, not again. Sex with Stiles isn’t something he ever wants to do simply because it’s convenient. He’s not the _opportunity-equals-sex_ kind of guy under any circumstances and he’s facing the same conundrum he did four years ago: is it okay to love Stiles more than he lets on or is that a betrayal? He still hasn’t found an answer after all this time. All he knows is that he loved Stiles when they were together and he loves him now – and has done so every second in between. And, right or wrong, he can’t stop what they’re doing.

It’s different tonight. This morning, they were both frantic, as if worried that one or both of them might stop if they gave themselves too much time to think. It was a desperate need fulfilled with impatience and minimal finesse. Now Derek kisses Stiles gently, exploring and rediscovering what he’s been missing, first his mouth, gently and leisurely, not wanting to stop. He thinks he might actually prefer kissing to sex because there’s never a reason to stop, there’s no end, no climax and being finished, just endless intimacy and pleasure. Even though Stiles gives no sign of tiring of it, Derek eventually moves on because that’s what they always did and it’s not as if he doesn’t want more. But he takes his time, working his mouth all over Stiles’s body. He traces familiar patterns and tries new ones, making Stiles shift and shudder under his ministrations and letting out throaty moans despite biting his bottom lip hard in an attempt to stay quiet. His skin is hot and flushed in places, smelling and tasting different but familiar, like coming home in a different season from when you left.

Eventually Stiles tries to wriggle in such a way that he can bring his cock closer to Derek's mouth but Derek has no difficulty holding him in place, earning himself a frustrated groan. He knows that Stiles won’t say anything in case they’re being listened to, so he looks up and grins for a few moments at Stiles’s predicament. Stiles shows him his teeth in a mock threat. Then it turns into a soft smile and he puts his hands on Derek’s head, not to guide him or try to force him but to run his finger through his strands in a slow caress. Derek almost comes undone by the affection in that gesture. To hide it, he lowers his eyes and takes Stiles’s cock into his mouth, giving him unhurried, drawn-out attention until he finally comes with what amounts to a long whimper.

It’s enough for Derek. It’s not that he doesn’t feel horny as hell from what they’re doing or, if truth be told, simply from being this close to Stiles, but he likes to make Stiles happy. It feels right. Just being this close to him, being allowed to smell him, touch him and feel him, is enough. He doesn’t need Stiles to reciprocate.

Stiles is still breathing heavily when Derek moves up to lie down next to him, but it’s not long before he’s kissing Derek with long wet kisses, while he’s half-lying on his chest. His hand moves slowly over Derek’s body, knowing full well where he likes to be touched and just how hard or soft to go. Derek’s never been with anyone else who knew his body so well. He really can’t understand why some people find sleeping with the same person over and over again boring. To this day, Stiles could take him apart in the shortest time imaginable or draw it out for as long as he fucking well pleases. How could that ever be boring? He suppresses a whimper of his own when Stiles’s hand leaves his body to rummage around in the bedside drawer. Finally Stiles shakes the bottle of lube in front of Derek's eyes with a wicked grin and Derek suddenly feels no longer content with one-sided orgasms. This is going to be a long night.

 

 

In the early morning, Derek can hear Tabitha stirring and eventually Cal padding along the corridor. There’s a small commotion and then Cal’s calling, “Stiles!” in an exasperated voice.

“Oops,” Stiles murmurs, crawling out of bed, and pulling on the first thing he finds – Derek's sweatpants – to go and break the mountain ash barrier at the top of the stairs.

“Thanks for the warning,” Cal mutters sarcastically. She’s really not a morning person.

Stiles comes shuffling back into the bedroom, uses the bathroom and crawls back into bed, right on top of Derek. “Morning, sleepywolf,” he says and plants a kiss randomly where his head has landed on Derek's chest.

Derek aches with the memories of their time together, when this was familiar but also oh so precious. In those days he was trying so hard not to hope for forever and still couldn’t quite stop himself in the end. He’s not going to go through that again, so he gently pushes a sleepily complaining Stiles off his body and goes to have a shower before making his way downstairs to put the coffeemaker on.

For an hour he finds some much needed solitude in the library. This has to stop. Deep down he knows that he’s been waiting for Stiles to come back since the day they broke up. He even said as much at the time. After a while it wasn’t so bad when Stiles was miles away. Being in love with someone who actually deserves it is good for the soul. It makes him feel good about himself. Keeping watch over him was a labor of love, an indulgence he could defend because ultimately it was his family that put Stiles in danger, so it was his responsibility as alpha and his mate to ensure his safety. But now that he’s around Stiles again, it’s a different picture. Now he can no longer romanticize how much he longs for him. Now it’s just that: _longing_ – it’s painful and frightening and it’s got to stop.

He moves to start setting the breakfast table when the rest of the house starts stirring. His pack arrives first, all of them as pale as he and Stiles are as the only indication of how little they slept. Usually when they have guests, there’s a schedule that allows them to sleep in shifts as a precaution but they’re all starting to get worried, so not sleeping is down to not being able to relax – or in his and Stiles’s case having sex most of the night.

When the Morettis come downstairs and have sat down for breakfast, Derek gently removes Tabitha from the baby carrier Stiles has strapped on again and places her in the high chair between her two mothers. Suddenly the air in the room feels charged with the way the other pack stares at the baby, who’s obliviously focused on getting her breakfast from Valeska.

Derek slowly takes a seat next to Stiles and waits a few moments before he says solemnly, “This is Tabitha.”

Marsha and Andrea exchange a look, before they watch the baby again.

“Well, this is fun,” Stiles says and mock-coughs _Mexican stand-off_ under his breath. Nobody pays him much attention.

Derek can agree that the atmosphere is tense. Apart from him, Stiles and the baby, nobody seems to be interested in the food. With slow deliberateness, he stretches out the meal with a leisurely coffee after he’s had some bacon and eggs. Next to him Stiles is shoveling food into his mouth apparently unperturbed, even scrounging Isaac’s when his own is finished.

Finally when there’s no longer any excuse to linger Derek picks Tabitha up and places her back with Stiles in the baby carrier. Then he makes an inviting gesture towards the lounge, taking his coffee mug with him.

Marsha and Andrea reluctantly take a seat because protocol demands it, but their betas remain standing, eyeing Stiles, who’s standing next to Derek's chair again.

“Sit down, please,” Derek says.

“I’ll stand if you don’t mind,” Pablo says pleasantly. “Just stretching my legs.”

“Understandable,” Stiles snarks. “You need to let your breakfast go down. Oh wait…” He trails off, grinning insolently.

“I do mind,” Derek says coldly and then even icier, “Sit. Down.”

Pablo and Olivia take their seats amongst his pack after a look from their alpha.

“You’re skirting the edges of hospitality,” Marsha says warningly.

“And you’re very close to making me revoke it. In my house you and especially your betas do as I ask when I ask you politely because I only do that once.”

There’s a moment when it looks like this could spill over into a serious, maybe even violent, argument, but they all shift their attention when a car pulls up to the house. Everybody’s eyes are turned towards the door when the sheriff enters the room in his uniform and with unusual swagger, his thumbs hooked in his belt.

“Morning all.” Nodding at the murmured replies, Stilinski takes his time to grab one of the dining room chairs to straddle it backwards, with his arms folded on the back. “I see we have new faces in town. Want to introduce me?”

Stiles looks at his dad with a mixture of surprise and amusement. To be sure the sheriff’s never been this quietly menacing before. He looks intently at each of the members of the other pack when they’re introduced to him as if he’s trying to memorize their faces for future reference. Then he silently drinks his coffee, which Cora has brought from the kitchen, just watching and listening to Derek explaining that the other pack’s visiting. The Morettis seem very interested in him with Tabitha forgotten for the time being. To Derek the sheriff’s behavior is a little over the top, but it’s impossible to miss how comfortable he’s in this house and how comfortable the pack is with him in turn, which was the whole point of his visit.

Eventually Stilinski looks at Derek, who nods. “Well, now that I know what’s going on in my town, I’ll be on my way. You know where to find me, son.” He gives the Morettis one last look and stalks back out to his car. Stiles makes a hiccup-y sound that could mean anything but is most likely an aborted giggle.

“I’d heard you’re close to the sheriff.” Marsha’s voice is full of disdain.

“We’re practically family,” Derek retorts casually.

“ _We_ like to sort out our own problems.”

“There’s no harm in having a few allies,” Derek says lightly. He takes another sip of his coffee, then adds, “For when you come up against larger numbers.”

They watch each other in silence, each sizing the other one up. Finally Marsha nods, conceding his point that he’s prepared against her much bigger pack. “Shall we get down to business?”

Derek shrugs as if he’s not concerned about that and tries to ignore Stiles, who’s rocking on the balls of his feet to keep the baby quiet. It’s annoying that it’s just out of Derek's sight but it can’t be helped now. He sets down his mug on the low coffee table.

“Is my son Marco Tabitha’s father?” Marsha demands to know before he has quite leaned back.

It’s a straight question and Derek likes that. He’s tired of the way they’re all dancing around each other.

“He’s more of a sperm donor,” Stiles says. “How did you find out?”

Marsha blusters at his retort but calms soon enough. “Marco told Kerry, his intended. He felt that she had a right to know before the mating. He was always honest. She told me after he… died. She felt I had a right to know.”

It’s more likely that this Kerry was hoping that it would ease Marsha’s grief a bit. Derek can’t help wishing she’d considered it her duty to keep Marco’s secrets instead. “Marco helped Valeska conceive. It was a favor. There was never any suggestion that he would claim her as his own. He specifically stated that he had no wish or plans to ever act as her father. He was doing it out of friendship. It was a gift. It was clear from the beginning that the child would grow up in my pack. I’m her alpha.”

“So there are signs that she’s a werewolf?” Marsha asks hopefully.

“That’s what you took away from what Derek said?” Stiles replies sardonically. “Not your son’s wishes or what a great guy he was, but that she might actually be an asset to your pack?”

“I know who my son was,” she snaps.

“Obviously, since he told you all about the baby and all.”

Even Derek winces inwardly at that and is glad that he’s no longer on the receiving end of Stiles being deliberately obnoxious to provoke a reaction.

Martha looks like she’s just moments away from trying to shut Stiles up by force, permanently if possible. But she rallies admirably, spitting out, “Naturally, the situation’s changed.”

“For _you_. Nothing’s changed for us. We’re still the happy little pack we were before and that includes Tabitha.”

“Your emissary is… a little blunt,” Andrea interjects mildly before Marsha can react.

“Nevertheless,” Derek says just as mildly. “He _is_ our emissary and he speaks the truth however much you’d prefer to have it wrapped in different packaging.”

“Then let me be equally blunt,” Marsha retorts, despite Andrea’s best efforts to calm her down. Maybe the plan to goad her into a rash disclosure of her true goals is working. “That child is my grandchild. I have rights.”

Derek isn’t completely sure what her rights are, if any, but it turns out that Stiles is.

“Actually, you _would_ have rights if the child was born into your pack. But she wasn’t so you don’t.” Stiles speaks with such conviction that the information must be accurate.

“I couldn’t claim her before, because I didn’t know about her. I do now so I’m claiming her as part of my pack. She’s my direct descendant. I have more rights than you, Derek, to be her alpha.” This is coming dangerously close to an affront Derek won’t be able to ignore.

“Wrong again,” Stiles grins, unperturbed by the fact that she’s obviously trying to cut him out of the conversation by speaking directly to Derek. “That would have been true if Marco was alive and was claiming her, but he’s neither. And in this case the ancestry that matters is through her remaining parent. That would be Valeska. And she’s Derek’s beta. She was his beta before the child was conceived and when the child was born. That means that it doesn’t matter that he’s no blood relation to the child. Derek's the child’s alpha and you won’t change that by claiming her. You can’t claim what ain’t yours, lady.”

Marsha is keeping her temper with great difficulty now and that in turn makes her betas angry. Or they simply think Stiles is out of line. Finally Marsha turns to Valeska, ignoring everyone else. “Our families have been friends for a long time, Valeska. You’re like a daughter to me. I offer you a place in my pack, you and your child. You know how large and powerful my pack is. Why would you want to languish in a small pack like this? The Hales might be someone again someday. But why wait? You can have that now. I can offer you all the privileges of a long established pack where you’ll be protected and cherished. And furthermore I can offer you that Tabitha will be alpha after me. She’s not going to have that here. And you will have all the status of the alpha’s mother.”

And there it is! This has been the plan all along. It’s a good pitch, Derek has to admit and a little out of left field. In all likelihood Stiles’s adversarial style has brought this offer much sooner than planned and in front of the whole pack, too. Taking another pack’s beta as your own is a questionable move at the best of times. Derek only got away with it when he took in Valeska because _she_ formally approached _him_. To do it in front of him is the height of rudeness, practically a challenge. Cora and Isaac are immediately up in arms, flashing their eyes and growling.

But Derek only has eyes for Valeska. He’s not the type of alpha who rules with an iron fist. It’s her decision that counts. If she wants to leave, he won’t stop her. What would be the point? It wouldn’t be the first time his betas left him. Marsha’s right. His pack is only a few years old, and he’s leading it without any guidance from another alpha or even an emissary, because he doesn’t trust the one who has knowledge and the one he trusts left him. The pack’s been doing well so far and they all seem content but will that be enough when compared to a larger, more experienced pack? Valeska came to him because she had nowhere else to go. Now she has another option.

Valeska doesn’t say anything for a while, studying her hands in her lap. Finally she turns to Cal, who returns her gaze with her usual stoic expression, then she looks Marsha in the eye and her voice doesn’t falter. “I’m going to try and say this as politely as possible. If you really wanted what’s best for me and Tabitha, you would have offered a place to Cal as well. You know she’s my mate.” She holds up her hand to silence Marsha, who’s starting to speak, no doubt trying to correct her mistake. “But even if you had… when Derek took me in four years ago, I was basically an omega. I’d left my family so I could be with Cal. And Derek just took us in. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t set any conditions, didn’t ask for anything in return. He stood up to my dad when he came and threatened him. He gave us a home, a pack. He trained us and supported us. He allowed us to have a child together. Derek may not be very experienced yet, but he’s the best alpha I can imagine. I loved Marco like a brother and I’ll always be grateful to him and cherish his memory in our child. But I wouldn’t leave this pack for anything. I have the life I always wanted here. I can finally be myself. Our pack’s good together. And Tabitha will be very happy. Derek’s the only alpha I want for my child.”

Over the years Derek has spent a lot of time and effort to control his emotions. Having replaced anger with Stiles as an anchor made it somewhat easier even after he left, so he’s been mostly successful. He doesn’t get riled up anymore or if he does, he can hide it. But right now he’d be hard-pressed to say anything he’s so overwhelmed. He didn’t know Valeska felt that way. Together with Cora she’s his most vocal critic in the pack. He swallows and doesn’t really know where to look, when he can suddenly feel a warm hand cupping his neck.

“O captain, my captain,” Stiles says, a little facetiously as he squeezes.

And just like that Derek feels grounded, getting himself under control again. He looks at Marsha, who still appears stunned that her offer was rejected. “You are no longer welcome in my house or my territory. You and your pack have ten minutes to leave.” His voice is icy cold.

“I don’t know what kind of cult you’re running here, Derek, but you cannot keep me from my grandchild. I won’t allow her to be brought up in this… teenage commune. This setup is just… what did you do to these kids that they follow you blindly? Why did Valeska even need Marco when it’s obvious what’s going here? She should have just left him alone.”

“Marsha,” Andrea stage-whispers warningly, eyes wide.

Derek gets up from his seat slowly, noting with relief that Stiles retreats to behind his chair with Tabitha. “I’ve changed my mind. You have exactly one minute to leave this house. Go and get into your car and we’ll bring your stuff to you. Do it now!” His eyes are glowing and his claws and fangs are starting to extend.

The other members of his pack have risen as well. Cal and Valeska move to either side of him, making a solid wall between their guests and Stiles and the baby. Isaac’s practically backflipped to stand behind the couch he was sitting on and Cora’s come further into the room to stand behind the other couch. Suddenly the other pack is surrounded and so far only Olivia has stood up and started to shift.

“Don’t!” Andrea says sharply. “We’re going. There’s no need for violence.”

The other members of her pack slowly get up.

“We can take them,” Olivia hisses through protruding fangs.

Marsha seems to consider it, looking behind her at Isaac, then at Cora, who already has her claws and fangs out.

“Derek's a full wolf and he has four betas against your two,” Stiles throws in. “You can’t be that stupid.”

“He’s right,” Andrea agrees urgently. “Let’s go. Marsha, please.”

Marsha’s eyes glow menacingly, but she also makes a hand gesture that prompts her betas to move towards the door, carefully walking backwards the whole time. Then she follows suit.

“Let me formally apologize for this incident,” Andrea says as she finally gets up. “It went against every rule of engagement. Please, do not hold it against the pack. We are in mourning and tempers are running high.”

“You should go,” Derek says coldly.

Andrea nods and bows formally, a gesture Derek doesn’t feel like returning. Then she turns and leaves the house without looking back, as if she’s proving a point.

Derek gives Cal a nod towards the ceiling and she dashes upstairs to pack their guests’ belongings. Meanwhile Derek and his betas step onto the veranda to keep an eye on the other pack, who are clearly visible in their SUV. Only Andrea is waiting by the open trunk for their baggage.

Cal takes less than five minutes to bring down various bags and dump them in the car. Andrea thanks her politely and climbs in the passenger seat. They all watch the car turn on the gravel and drive down the track. At a sign from Derek, Isaac and Cora sprint off through the woods to ensure that the other pack leaves their territory.

Finally when he can no longer hear the engine, Derek turns to Valeska and cups her neck gently.

She looks up at him and smiles. “Thank you.” Then she suddenly moves forward and gives him a hug, squeezing tightly and taking a few shaky breaths.

When Stiles steps onto the veranda, she lets go and takes the baby off him, moving over to Cal, who puts an arm over her shoulder and leads her into the house. Stiles watches them go, then comes to stand next to Derek, smiling. “You know they all feel the same about you, don’t you?”

Derek blushes and turns to look at the trees. “Don’t ever quote Whitman at me again.”

Stiles sidles up closer to him and shoulder-bumps him. “You’re their leader. Accept it. Your pack loves you.”

Today Derek’s a lot closer to believing it, but what he really wants to know is if Stiles is including himself in that. When he stays silent, Stiles stops looking at him and follows his gaze down the track. For a minute he bites his bottom lip, then he says solemnly. “It’s not over.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”

 

 

By the time Cora and Isaac return an hour and a half later Derek’s already made a few phone calls. The betas not only saw the Morettis leave Beacon Hills but also scouted the preserve to make sure there weren’t any other unwanted guests in the vicinity. Derek approves.

Two hours after that he’s sitting across the desk from Paul Webster, who’s been his family’s lawyer since long before the fire. Valeska and Cal are watching silently as he explains the situation, while Tabitha is sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier between them.

“So you want to petition for a second parent adoption for the child?” Paul asks.

“Yes.”

“The biological father is deceased?”

“Yes.”

“And he wasn’t involved in the child’s life before his death?”

“No.”

“And you said the second parent would be this young lady here.” Paul gives Cal a polite smile then looks at the notes he made while Derek was talking. “… Callista McKenzie.”

“That’s right.”

“Hhm…” The lawyer scratches his head. “Let me be honest with you. The situation’s this: you can file for a second parent adoption for a same sex partner and the law will be on your side. _Eventually_. If you’re unlucky, the judge can draw it out for a long time. He can also take the father’s family into account and as you said they’re hostile that can drag it out even further. You’ll win eventually but it’ll take time.”

“How much time?”

“A year maybe, as opposed to six to eight weeks for a second parent adoption for a heterosexual couple.”

“What are you saying?”

“If your objective is to have a second parent as soon as possible as a safeguard in case anything happens to the biological mother, then the easiest – and certainly fastest – solution would be for _you_ to adopt the child.”

Derek feels stunned for a moment. “ _Me?_ ”

“Sure. You already live in the same house. No one can prove that you’re not in a relationship if you two say you are. You’re her alpha so you two could fake it convincingly. No one would be any the wiser and if this is just a formality for legal reasons, nothing would change.”

“What about Cal?”

“A child can only have two parents, Derek.”

Derek looks at his betas in turn and Valeska looks as uncertain as he is. Cal is watching Tabitha by her feet and is her habitual unreadable self.

“I’d suggest you all go home and think about it overnight. Like I said, I can petition for Miss McKenzie to be the other parent but it’ll take time and it’ll cost you. Or I could do it in your name and it’ll be much faster and therefore cheaper. I’ll email you a list of documents you’ll need to supply in either case. When you’ve made your decision, bring the papers and we’ll fill in the forms.”

By the time they get home it’s nearly dinner time and they’ve stopped on the way for pizza for the whole pack. Everyone is gathered around the large kitchen table when Derek relates what the lawyer said. He’s not so much throwing the subject open for discussion but explaining it in the spirit of transparency. This decision isn’t going to be voted on.

“Paul wants you to play daddy?” Cora says, slightly amused.

Derek shrugs. He hasn’t quite come to a decision yet, nor would he make it without the two mothers. As far as he’s concerned they should have a chance to discuss this between just the two of them first and he won’t broach the subject until he feels confident in his own solution. Picking up another slice of pizza, he realizes how quiet Stiles has remained. It’s unusual, to say the least.

After dinner Derek goes into the library to see if Paul’s emailed him yet only to find that Stiles has set up his laptop, a pile of books and various papers with notes on the desk by the window.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “Isaac said it’d be okay. I thought I’d write a bit more on my final project or try to. Can’t seem to concentrate.”

“It’s fine. How far have you got?”

Stiles makes a seesaw motion with his hand. “I’m thinking about two-thirds.”

Derek nods, grabs his laptop and withdraws to the couch. As promised, Paul has sent the list and it’s not as extensive as he feared. Almost all of his family's papers were lost in the fire. Laura had some of her personal papers with her, but Derek himself only had his library card on him. Over the years he’s acquired the basics but every time he needs a document other than the run-of-mill ones, like his birth certificate, he has to start the long process of getting a replacement from the authorities. He looks up when Stiles sits down next to him. “Done?”

“Gave it up for a lost cause. Tomorrow’s another day and all that.”

“How are you doing in general?” Having watched Stiles from afar over the years didn’t give him an insight into how his grades are and asking his father would go against their tacit agreement concerning him.

“I’m acing my courses. I just have trouble concentrating sometimes. Then I get a burst of focus and write until I pass out. Pretty much the way I’ve always worked.” He twangs his rubber wristband as if it will magically give him focus now. After a few moments silence he asks, “What are you gonna do about Tabitha?”

“Not sure yet. It’s not just my decision.”

“Would you want to be her dad?”

Derek is struck by something in Stiles’s voice that he can’t place, something not quite right. Closing his laptop, he turns sideways to face him, but Stiles is watching his wrist where his fingers are still playing with the armband. He fights down the voice inside his head that tells him that Stiles’s thoughts are no longer any of his concern. Stiles brought it up, so he’ll have to live with the questions – because this is really bugging Derek. “Why are you always so weird when we talk about me being a father?”

Stiles’s head comes up sharply. “I’m not weird. Well, okay, some people have called me weird in the past… and maybe even the present, but that doesn’t make it so. It’s a misconception on their part. In general I’m a very well-adjusted person. More so nowadays than in the past. So that’s progress.”

“I didn’t say you’re weird. I said you behave in a weird way when it comes to this particular subject. Now stop deflecting and tell me what issues you have with kids.”

“Issues? I don’t have any issues. May I remind you that I’m the one who wants a whole bunch of them? You’re the one with the issue. You didn’t want kids. At least you said you didn’t want kids. So I have a right to think… to wonder…” He gesticulates aimlessly with his arms and falters.

“I remember you telling me that you wanted a dozen kids.” Derek's not sure how to ask what he wants to know but then he just goes for the most direct way. “Did you mean straight away? Did you want kids when… we were together?”

“What?” Stiles snorts. “No! I was seventeen! Of course not. It’s a general life plan.” His surprised amusement fades and he looks down again.

“Then what?” Derek asks sharply because he’s getting frustrated. “What is it about kids that makes you all weird all the time?”

“Nothing.”

“Stiles.” Derek's voice reflects his exasperation. “Don’t make me make you talk.”

He knows immediately that it was the wrong thing to say because Stiles is now grinning at him, half amused and half flirtatious. “You think you can make me? That would be interesting. Shall I lock the door?”

Derek doesn’t attempt to keep a straight face that Stiles will only try his hardest to crack. He knows that’s one fight he can’t win. He always wants to smile at Stiles. So he gives him a short grin of acknowledgement but for once he doesn’t give up. He has questions and if he doesn’t get answers, they’ll eat away at him, like they have done over the last four years. The look he gives Stiles is a silent demand. He’s prepared to up his tactic to pleading if he needs to, but he’ll wait this out to the bitter end.

Stiles loses his grin and his eyes go soft before he focuses on his own lap again. “You said you didn’t want kids. I was disappointed but it’s a choice and I thought you had plenty of reasons not to want to be responsible for another person, especially one as vulnerable as a baby. I accepted it… well in the sense that I would have worked on you on the subject until you’d come round to my way of thinking eventually. But I would have been generous and not insisted on twelve…” He grins at Derek but is met with the same silent stare, so he looks down again and takes a deep breath. “Then I heard that Valeska had a baby and I thought it was yours and it made me feel like… but Tabitha isn’t yours so that was okay. But when I got here, you were so comfortable with her and you said you were no longer opposed to having a kid and I thought…”

Derek waits and when there’s no continuation, he says mildly, “You thought… what…?”

“Are you really gonna make me say it? Are you really gonna be that kind of guy or rather that kind of werewolf?”

“Yes, I am because I have no clue what you’re on about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes, you d…”

“Stiles!”

“I thought you just didn’t want kids with _me_ , alright? That you thought I was too immature or too weird or maybe you thought what I have is hereditary or that I would screw the kid up just by being around her or him or I don’t know… maybe you just didn’t feel that way about me, alright? That maybe you thought I’d make a terrible father.”

Stiles has talked himself into a angry rant – a _loud_ angry rant – and Derek's just speechless. But not for long. “Are you fucking kidding me? I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you! I may not have been ready for kids then but that had nothing – _nothing! –_ to do with you. Even then I knew that if I ever wanted kids, it would be with you. Hell, if you’d insisted, I would have had them with you then. How could you possibly not know that?”

“You would have?”

Derek can’t take how upset Stiles looks all of a sudden, like he’s just as sad as Derek is for what they’ve lost. But they didn’t lose it, did they? Stiles threw it away and it’s not fair that he can make Derek feel like this still, so regretful and sad and broken. He gets up and leaves the library, brushing past Isaac on the porch as he jumps down the five steps and just runs.

 

 

Even though he hasn’t run far in terms of distance from the house, it’s late when Derek returns. Isaac is lying in the swing seat on the porch with his hands folded under his head and his eyes shut. He looks asleep but one of his long legs is dangling over the side and giving the swing the occasional push to keep the momentum going. Derek stops next to him.

“Why are you still up? Aren’t you going into work tomorrow?”

Isaac peeks one eye open at him. “Yeah. I’m just resting. Too lazy to go to bed. Is it okay for Allison to come round tomorrow? The negotiations are finished, right?”

“Sure, she can come. You realize there’s gonna be more, right?”

“Yeah, I think we’re all aware of that.” Isaac gets up with an alacrity that belies him professing to feel lazy. “You locking up? I’m off to bed.”

Derek follows him inside and wishes him a goodnight, before securing the house. Somehow his betas have started to wait for him to return home, just like he never goes to sleep until the last of them arrives at night. They seem to take turns, so he didn’t notice it at first but one of them is always awake still. It’s been going on for a while now and it makes him aware how close they’ve all become. He showers in one of the guest rooms and can’t stop smiling to himself.

When Derek enters his bedroom, Stiles is still awake although he’s pretending to be asleep. Derek slips into bed and turns away from him. After a while he can hear Stiles turning towards him but nothing happens. The feelings of unhappiness radiating off him are heartbreaking.

“I think you’d make a great dad,” Derek says without turning. “I always did.”

“Thanks,” comes the muffled answer.

A few minutes later when neither one of them is any closer to sleep, Stiles puts his hand on Derek's bare back, moving it to trace his tattoo in a gentle caress.

Derek freezes. “Don’t,” is all he can get out, his voice cracking because he knows that if Stiles just keeps going for a little longer, he’ll give in and they’ll have sex again. He has no defenses against Stiles, can’t resist him for more than a few moments. Does Stiles even know? Derek wants to have sex with Stiles, he really does, but not like this. He can’t do this anymore. But he will if Stiles insists because kissing and touching him again is just too tempting.

There’s no hesitation whatsoever. Stiles removes his hand as if he touched a burning stove. “Sorry.” It comes out breathless, like he’s upset and horrified at the same time.

“S’alright,” Derek mumbles because Stiles doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything wrong. They had sex twice now. How was he to know that Derek’s struggling with the situation? He can’t know if Derek doesn’t tell him and Derek has no intention of talking about this. He’s not going to flay himself open. The only way to get through this is by pretending he doesn’t care. Stiles may be able to jump on an opportunity to have sex and not think twice about it. Derek doesn’t. He’s spent four years reacting to people flirting with him with nothing but regret and sadness. He no longer wants to have sex with someone he’s not in love with and in this unique case he no longer wants to have sex with someone who isn’t in love with him. It just makes him feel hollow.

 

 

For once, Derek isn’t the first one up in the morning. When he gets downstairs, he finds Cal already at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. It’s still an hour until Isaac needs to get up for work and just getting light. Derek hasn’t slept much, if at all, and Cal looks as if she hasn’t either.

He often marvels at the fact that no other pack had taken her in by the time he met her but quite frankly, it wouldn’t have occurred to him either had it not been for Valeska’s introduction. Cal had been an omega for three years before they met. While surviving on her own at such a young age spoke to her resourcefulness and resilience, being an omega for so long would make most packs wonder what was wrong with her. Only inferior packs would consider taking her in. Derek spent long hours talking to her and Valeska before he made his decision to accept both of them as betas. He heard all about how Cal left her old pack when her alpha made unwanted advances. It sometimes happens when an alpha is very strong and undisputed and starts to develop a god complex. Derek sometimes wonders if some version of it happened to him when he bit three teenagers so he could protect himself before he was able to protect them in turn.

Cal has been a real asset. She’s smart, level-headed and can deal with the often highly-strung Valeska without losing her cool. Her deep and abiding love for her mate is apparent to anyone but she also manages to be quietly affectionate with the rest of the pack. In the beginning that went a long way to make them comfortable around each other. Derek knew they would all be okay when Isaac signaled his approval of Callista long before he warmed to Valeska or even Cora.

He helps himself to coffee and sits down opposite her. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She shakes her head silently, staring tiredly into space.

“Did you and Valeska manage to talk about the adoption?”

Cal snorts derisively. “Why do you think I didn’t get any sleep? We went round and round in circles.”

“Any decisions?”

She shrugs, then looks him in the eye. “We trust you.”

“Okaay, thank you, I guess, but it’s not my decision.”

“We want Tabitha to be safe. If anything happened to Valeska… I couldn’t cope with losing both of them at the same time. I know you would never keep Tabitha from me, so if you want to adopt her, I have no objections.”

Derek nods and absently swirls the coffee in his mug. The last couple of days have brought a barrage of professions of love and trust from his pack and he’s still not sure how to react to it. Should he thank them, hug them or what? It’s not as if anything’s changed recently, it’s just been expressed more openly. Finally he takes a deep breath. “But you’d much rather adopt her yourself, wouldn’t you?”

Cal’s shrug is a ‘yes’ and a ‘but’ at the same time. She’s nothing if not pragmatic. It’s one of the traits he likes in her.

“The thing is, Cal, I trust you, too. You and the rest of the pack. So I dare say that between us we’ll manage to keep Valeska safe and sound until the adoption comes through. We’ve managed for four years, what’s another year?”

“The Morettis…”

“The Morettis may do something stupid but killing Valeska in the hopes of getting their hands on the baby is a little far-fetched, I think. Especially since they’re well aware that we have the sheriff on our side. We’ll be fine. Tabitha’s yours and Valeska’s. We’ll just have to make it official.”

Cal nods and stares into her coffee without much reaction until suddenly she launches herself across the table to hug him. Derek has barely time to save his coffee from ending up on the floor by holding it away from both their bodies and returns the embrace with one arm. When he hears Cal sniffle, he cups her neck with his free hand. “Why don’t go and talk to Valeska about it?”

She nods vigorously against his neck and then dashes upstairs without looking at him. Derek's only seen her this emotional once before, when her daughter was born, and knows he made the right decision. He smiles and finishes his coffee.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

**9.**

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER _

Derek arrives slightly early but seems a little stressed. He is dressed in a dark Henley and dark jeans and for the first time sports a couple of days’ worth of stubble. He’s also bringing a baby of approximately six months, who is sleeping in a car seat, and a large bag full of baby paraphernalia.

 

Transcript from the recording:

AW: Is this the baby in your pack? What’s her name? You said it’s a girl, right?

DH: Tabitha. I’m sorry I had to bring her.

AW: It’s okay. I have a child. I know sometimes these things are unavoidable but I’d suggest you leave her with Patty in reception. I promise she’s good with kids. She babysits for me all the time. And you could concentrate on the session.

DH: I can’t. I didn’t bring her because I couldn’t find a sitter. I brought her because I can’t let her out of my sight. I go crazy when I can’t keep an eye on her.

AW: Is this a recent development?

DH: I had a lot of trouble adjusting when she was born although not quite as bad as this. But our negotiations didn’t go as planned and I don’t think she’s safe.

AW: Would you say this fear is rational?

DH: I think there’s a real danger that the other pack will try to get to her.

AW: Then think nothing of it. We’ll just work around her. So let’s start. I wanted to ask you how you feel about Stiles turning up here last week. I assume it was without your knowledge and consent?

DH: Stiles doesn’t need my permission for anything. He never did.

AW: Because he ignores your wishes?

DH: … it’s more like… whatever makes him happy is fine by me.

AW: I see. And has this always been the case?

DH: Pretty much since he’s become my mate.

AW: So you feel that your mate has the right to do whatever he likes? How about you? Can you do whatever you like?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): …

AW: What happens when what you like and what he likes clash?

DH ( _smiles_ ): Stiles is a law onto himself. I don’t mind.

AW: Really? So if one of your betas had done the same last week, you wouldn’t have been upset?

DH: That’s different. That would be disrespectful.

AW: But when Stiles does it, it’s… what?

DH: …

AW: …

DH: It shows that he cares, doesn’t it?

AW: Does it?

DH: He wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t interested.

AW: Would you have told him about these sessions if he hadn’t found out?

DH: Probably not. We don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.

AW: I see.

DH: Don’t do that!

AW: Do what?

DH: Say ‘I see’ as if I’m an idiot.

AW: That wasn’t my intention. In fact, I should have said ‘I don’t see’, because I don’t understand how you can have a relationship where you no longer feel comfortable telling Stiles your secrets and yet that same relationship still allows him to pry into those secrets whenever he feels like it. Seems a little one-sided to me.

DH: It always was. I always focused on making him happy. I just want him to be happy.

AW: What’s in it for you?

DH: I like seeing him happy.

AW: I get that but what do you get out of seeing him happy?

DH: It makes me happy?

AW: Yes, but what about it exactly makes you happy? What happens when Stiles is happy?

DH ( _smiles_ ): He lights up. He has this smile that’s just… and his eyes shine. He’s just beautiful and so affectionate.

AW: Affectionate towards you?

DH: When we were together, mostly, yes. He was always affectionate.

AW: So you give Stiles whatever he wants in the hopes that he’ll return it by being affectionate?

DH: …

AW: Is that an accurate description of your relationship?

DH ( _icily_ ): I’d say it’s a pretty cold contortion of it. I didn’t give him things, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t buy him and he’s not a prostitute.

AW: I never said any of that. What I’m asking is, when you’re with Stiles do you ever express any negative feelings you may have?

DH: I don’t have any negative feelings towards Stiles.

AW: Really? So you’re not upset that he broke up with you?

DH: He had his reasons.

AW: Which he didn’t share with you. Doesn’t that make you angry?

DH: … Sad, not angry. I’ve been angry for far too long. I used to use anger as my anchor but I got tired of it. Being angry all the time is exhausting. I’ve wasted too much time on it. Stiles is my anchor now.

AW: And now if you lose your ideal of Stiles, you’d lose your anchor, too.

DH: Not really. Even after we broke up, it worked.

AW: I see. Derek, when one of your betas does something you don’t like, what do you do?

DH: Talk to them. Reprimand them if necessary. We don’t actually have any serious conflicts. Cora can be a bit of a handful, but it’s more needling than anything else. I can usually sort her out quickly enough.

AW: But you wouldn’t do the same with Stiles?

DH: He’s my mate not my beta.

AW: So you feel you don’t have the right to say something to him when he does something you don’t like? Or do you think you _should_ like the things he does because he’s your mate?

DH: Uhm… both?

AW: Okay, let’s try this another way: when you and Stiles are together nowadays, what is your most prevalent feeling?

DH: … right now? Worry.

AW: About what exactly?

DH: That he’ll leave and I won’t see him again.

AW: And what was your most prevalent feeling when you were in a relationship, if you’re completely honest?

DH: … the same.

AW: You were worried that he’d leave you?

DH ( _nods_ ):

AW: Did you ever feel completely secure with him?

DH: I trust him.

AW: Trust him not to leave?

DH: … I … he … no, he was always gonna _leave_. I knew that. He was so young and he had his whole life ahead of him.

AW: Have you never considered that he might have wanted to spend that life with you?

DH: Well, I didn’t stop him from doing that.

AW: Didn’t you?

DH: What are you getting at?

AW: That sometimes we bring about the very thing we fear by fearing it. Our fear makes us behave in ways that make our fear come true. Like a very jealous person might drive their partner into the arms of someone else.

DH: I made Stiles leave because I was afraid he would? But if he knew I was afraid of it, wouldn’t that tell him how much I wanted to be with him?

AW: Maybe he didn’t know.

DH: I still don’t know how I could have prevented it. I can’t help the way I feel. Everybody I love has left me one way or another. It’s a legitimate concern, don’t you think?

AW: It doesn’t matter what I think. But you got together because of your mutual feelings for each other and then at some point you started hiding those feelings. And any other feelings. Especially negative ones. Life isn’t all sunshine and unicorns, Derek. Disagreements are part of it. It’s how you handle them that’s important. It makes your relationship grow.

DH: I have to shout at Stiles to make it work?

AW: Not necessarily shout at him. But you have to express yourself when things aren’t to your liking. How you do that is up to you. Or are you telling me Stiles never did anything at all that annoyed you even a little?

DH ( _smiles wanly_ ): All the time. I usually don’t mind.

AW: Derek, expressing your feelings and opinions is not a sign of disloyalty. If you can’t say it to Stiles, maybe you can say it to me? How did it make you feel when I called you last week to tell you that Stiles was here?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): To be honest, I’m not sure. I thought it showed that he was interested in me, so that made me feel happy, I suppose. But I also felt… a little embarrassed and annoyed that I couldn’t have this to myself.

AW: And yet you allowed me to speak to him. What did you say to him when you saw him afterwards?

DH: That he should never mention it to me again.

AW: Because it annoyed you.

DH: Yes, it annoyed me. Happy now?

AW: Kind of. I would be happier if you told _him_. Did you ever tell him how much you loved him?

DH: No. I tried sometimes in the beginning, when he said it, but he always stopped me. You know, he’d say it and then he’d kiss me before I had a chance to say it back.

AW: Did you want to say it back?

DH: Yeah, and more.

AW: How did you interpret that he wouldn’t let you?

DH: At first I thought he was being considerate. That he looked at my life and thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t say it back, so he didn’t want there to be this awkwardness if I didn’t say anything. And then after a while, I didn’t want to burden him with it. I loved him so much and I was so afraid that he’d leave. I just wanted him to have a carefree relationship. He was seventeen. He was dropped slam-bang in the middle of all this werewolf stuff when he was even younger and his life was never normal again after that. He didn’t want to deal with the fact that I couldn’t see anything but him in my future until one of us dies. He’s my mate. I don’t think he really knows what that means.

AW: …

DH: What?

AW: You were in a relationship and you didn’t want to _burden_ your partner with your love for him?

DH: It’s maybe a poor choice of words but it’s basically true. What teenager wants a relationship that heavy?

AW: So if you and Stiles were together now, it would be alright to tell him, because he’s older now and can handle it?

DH: Well, no, because he’s human, isn’t he? He doesn’t really feel the same way a wolf does.

AW: Have you offered him the bite?

DH: No. It was always really clear that he didn’t want it.

AW: Would you offer it if he wanted it?

DH: No. I’d be too scared that he wouldn’t survive.

AW: And of course, as long as he’s human, you’ll never have to find out if he feels the same about you. If he was a wolf, you’d have no more excuses why he can’t love you as much as you love him.

DH: …

AW: …

DH: You’re saying I’m too much of a coward to face up to his feelings for me, good or bad.

AW: That’s your interpretation. I think you’ve lost a lot of people in your life, Derek. It’s natural to be worried that it will happen again. You’ve also been betrayed by two women you were involved with, who pretended to have feelings for you. So it would also be natural to be cautious of your partner’s feelings. But you’ve chosen a different path. You’ve decided from the beginning to trust Stiles, probably because by that time he’d given you ample proof that he was trustworthy. In fact you kind of worship him. And you’ve protected yourself against any eventuality by assuming it was inevitable. If Stiles left you, you already knew he would, so it wasn’t a betrayal. If his feelings were shallow and fleeting, you already knew that, too, because he was too young. The only eventuality you didn’t bargain for was that Stiles might be as loving and steady and sure about wanting a future with you as you were. You never really gave him a chance to be that.

 

General session notes:

Derek has a complex relationship with his mate. On the one hand he has an idealized expectation of the relationship (probably due to his romanticized view of his parents) so on some level he not only accepts anything that happens but also thinks that he should be happy about it. On the other hand he has a simultaneous fear and expectation of abandonment that practically paralyzes him.

Derek manages to render me speechless twice in this session. The first time is when he speaks of his feelings (and by extension his whole person) being a ‘burden’ for his mate. His lack of self-worth is stunning and thoroughly ingrained. I must confess that it saddened me deeply on a personal level. But Derek is otherwise very well-adjusted and had worked through his horrific experiences to some degree before he even came to me. And yet on this one point he’s made no progress at all, probably couldn’t on his own because he feels he doesn’t deserve it. His guilt is preventing him from developing any kind of self-confidence beyond measurable achievements, such as physical strength, keeping his pack safe, etc. Most of the time, when he mentions an achievement, e.g. his success as a mediator, which is gaining him a good reputation in the community, he seems surprised as if it has nothing to do with him personally or even shows signs of impostor syndrome.

The second time I’m speechless is when he tells me that he and Stiles had sex twice while Stiles has been staying with him. As expected, Derek excuses his mate’s behavior, while admitting that to him it meant the world.

 

AW: Who initiated it?

DH: He did.

AW: Why did you agree?

DH: I wanted to have sex?

AW: Did you? Because you don’t seem very sure about that.

DH: I expected it, really. With Stiles sleeping in my bed it’s a wonder I lasted three nights.

AW: How did you manage the nights before?

DH ( _shrugs_ ): Stiles didn’t make a move. When he did, I couldn’t restrain myself.

AW: Ah, but that’s not quite true, is it? You managed to restrain yourself when you thought Stiles didn’t want it, because that would have been rape. But restraint is restraint. If you can argue yourself out of it three nights in a row, the next night should have been possible, too. What was different?

DH: He touched me. Well, he _asked_ if he could touch me.

AW: Why did you agree?

DH: I wanted to.

AW: What exactly did you want … to touch… kiss… be close… or was it just sex?

DH: Maybe for him it was. Or nostalgia. He’s had several partners over the past years, maybe it’s just what he does nowadays.

AW: I wasn’t asking about Stiles.

DH: For me it can never be just sex with Stiles. It’s always been more. It’s always been about being close, intimate in every sense of the word. I’ve missed that. And when we had sex on Tuesday morning it was okay. It was kind of rushed. So I knew where I stood. And it was kind of awkward afterwards, too. We’ve never been awkward after sex before.

AW: And the second time?

DH: It was soft and slow and it lasted most of the night with all the touching in between. … It freaked me out.

AW: What freaked you out about it?

DH: That it was so …familiar. It felt _real._ Like before. It… hurt.

AW: So you would have preferred fast sex again?

DH: I would have preferred _no_ sex.

AW: Why did you?

DH: It was fun at first. We couldn’t talk because of the other pack in the house, so we just sat there in silence and then it was funny all of a sudden and we were grinning and then it kind of led to seriousness and we started kissing. I think I was…

AW: …

DH: I think I was hoping that we … that he… I just want him back, okay? It’s really pathetic.

AW: Not at all. You love him. You can’t help that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

DH: I’m not ashamed of my feelings. Loving Stiles usually makes me feel good about myself. He’s such a great guy. He deserves to be loved. It’s good to be in love with someone who’s worth it. I don’t have to hate myself for loving him like I did before. Even if he doesn’t feel the same.

AW: And it’s safer for you that way. You can enjoy the feeling without the risk of being rejected or losing the other person.

DH ( _annoyed_ ): You just couldn’t let me have that without twisting it into something negative, could you?

AW: I’m just pointing out to you that subconsciously you may actually prefer your situation now to your situation when you were together. You don’t have to experience the fear that you felt when you were together. He can’t leave you if you’re not together. But I understand that you two haven’t had sex since then. How did that happen?

DH: I said no and he stopped.

AW: Were you surprised?

DH: Not really. Stiles would never do anything I don’t want. Not knowingly.

AW: How did it make you feel?

DH: Like crap. I hate hurting him.

AW: But you think he was just having sex with you. Rejection might sting a little in that case, but not really hurt, like it would if he loved you.

DH ( _sarcastic_ ): And this time you’re trying to tell me… what exactly?

AW: Just picking at the holes in your story.

DH: Okay. I’ll bite. Stiles may not be heart-broken when I reject him but it _might sting a little_ and I don’t like causing him even that much discomfort. I already admitted how pathetic I am where he’s concerned.

AW: _Or_ … you may be right in what you’re hoping and it did break his heart when you rejected him.

DH ( _jumps out of his seat, then seems unsure what to do next and sits back down. The baby gives a loud cry – sensing his distress? – but calms when he picks her up immediately_ ): I hate you.

AW: …

DH ( _fusses unnecessarily with the child in an obvious attempt to distract_ ): I don’t know what you want from me. One minute you tell me to get a grip because he doesn’t love me and the next you tell me that he does. Make up your mind.

AW: I never said that he doesn’t love you. Quite frankly I have no idea whether he does or not. I’m telling you to get a ‘grip’ on what _you_ want. Your life can’t be about what you think Stiles needs and wants. It has to be about _your_ needs and wants. If those things coincide with Stiles’s that’s great but if they don’t, it’s Stiles’s responsibility to look after himself not yours.

 

General session notes:

Derek was obviously riled up today. I think it had only partly to do with his worry about the child in his pack and more to do with Stiles spending the week with him. It had the effect that he was more open to talk about what is really bothering him which he has avoided so far. Luckily Derek recognized that having sex without clearing the air was a bad idea and put a stop to it. Quite frankly I’m surprised about that since he has gone along with Stiles’s wishes for years. This is progress albeit a small one.

We talked for a long time about how he and Stiles got together and about the time when they were in a relationship. Despite the fears he admitted to earlier, Derek was obviously very happy with Stiles. The break-up still came as a shock, to his feelings rather than his mind, but he accepted it and made no attempt at changing Stiles’s mind, nor did he talk to anyone about it until today.

He has shown anger for the first time, with me mainly, but there’s hope that he will have the courage to show his negative emotions to other people, namely Stiles, as well soon.

 

Notes for later sessions

I have suggested again to make Stiles part of the sessions and Derek neither agreed nor disagreed. That is certainly a change from his prior vehement refusal.

On a different note: Derek is _very_ good with the baby. Even allowing for his alpha status, they are obviously completely at ease with each other. It speaks to how confident his leadership is.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Derek arrives home in the afternoon. As usual he’s immediately aware of Stiles even before Stiles steps onto the veranda. Since they unceremoniously threw the Moretti pack out of the house things have been quiet. There’s an atmosphere of expectation or foreboding over the house that’s affecting all of them, making them watchful and edgy. Cora’s already asked Derek once why Stiles is even here still when they no longer need an emissary. Derek doesn’t know.

The shift in their relationship hasn’t been missed by the pack. On Thursday Stiles started sleeping in the den. It seems that he can see no point in staying in Derek's bed if there’s no sex to be had. Derek doesn’t know if he’s upset or relieved about the development. During the day Stiles studies in the library so Derek spends less time in there now.

Isaac and Cal have been back at work for Thursday and Friday and Allison was visiting at the weekend. Derek has been doing odd jobs around the house to keep himself occupied and in the evening they all sit together having barbecues, watching movies or just talking. And finally after four years Derek is beginning to trust that his pack isn’t going to break apart. They’ve made it, probably made it a while back but he just hasn’t been confident enough to believe it. Now he does and watching Stiles fitting in so effortlessly is an added bonus.

None of them has lost sight of the threat from the Moretti pack but it’s not as if they’re not always vigilant anyway. All of them are aware of where Tabitha is at all times. In some ways they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Derek took Valeska and Cal back to his lawyer on Thursday to get the ball rolling on the adoption but other than that today is the first time he left the house.

He won’t give up on his sessions with Dr. Winter. Up to now he’s been feeling slightly uneasy about them because he knew that eventually he would have to talk about Stiles. But now that he has started to do that, he realizes how much he’s wanted to vent for a long time. It’s just unfortunate that his only friend outside the pack happens to be wholly unsuitable to the task. He has more to say and he won’t stop now until it’s all out.

Stiles makes his way down the steps to his car and picks up the diaper bag while Derek unstraps Tabitha. “How did it go?”

“Great.” Derek puts the baby to his shoulder and looks at Stiles. “You’re coming with me next week.”

“I am?” It sounds half-amused and half-perplexed.

“Yes, and I wouldn’t be too pleased about it either, if I were you.” Derek walks past him without another words and it isn’t until he’s nearly inside the house that he hears Stiles following, muttering, “Okay. Whatever you say, big guy.”

 

 

The week drags on the same way as the second half of the previous week. The most interesting occurrence is that Tabitha starts to crawl – or at least tries to – while Derek’s watching her in the den. When he looks up from the book he’s reading, she’s wiggled herself onto her hands and knees and shuffles a little. Without taking his eyes off her he calls Valeska, who comes rushing in, worried, then stops.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, watching in rapt attention. “That’s amazing.”

Derek feels as proud as any parent about this astonishing feat and smiles broadly. “Are you gonna tell her she’s going the wrong way or shall I?” He watches as Tabitha pushes feet first into the couch and seems to be confused why she’s stuck.

Valeska’s already busy preserving the moment for posterity on her phone and sending it to Cal at work. A minute later, Cora and Stiles wander in to see what the commotion was about and Derek can’t help but melt at the way Stiles smiles at the baby. He wasn’t wrong. Stiles has definitely the makings of a great father.

Despite the apparent peacefulness, it’s a week of hell for Derek. He can feel Stiles practically every moment of every day. It’s not just that his scent is everywhere, he also seems to be hellbent on being around Derek as much as possible. Derek tries not to read anything into it. Stiles is a sociable guy, he loves company, an audience even, and with Isaac being at work Derek is the natural choice.

While Derek has trouble remaining calm around him at the best of times, Stiles also lapses into the occasional flirting and the hollow feeling this causes in his stomach is anything but pleasant. Derek hates anything Stiles does that isn’t genuine affection, love even. He just can’t handle it. It reminds him too much of what used to be and what he desperately wants back and how that’s well and truly over now. Only, sometimes he isn’t so sure about that. Sometimes he can’t tell if Stiles is just joking and playing or if it’s more. Those are the worst moments.

At night he lies awake, listening to Stiles breathe all the way downstairs in the den. It seems that he’s not the only one who has trouble sleeping. He refrains from jerking off because he couldn’t look Stiles in the eye the next day if he jerked off to memories of him and he can’t shift the idea that Stiles would just _know_. All in all the week seems never ending and flying by at the same time, because on Monday Stiles will drive back to Stanford.

At times Derek wants to grab him, push him against the next vertical surface and kiss the hell out of him. The problem is that Stiles would probably go along with it – and further – but that’s not what Derek wants. He wants Stiles to feel the same way about him as he does about Stiles. Anything else is just too painful and passionate kissing won’t achieve his goal. At other times Derek is irrationally angry with him as if it’s Stiles’s fault that Derek's struggling with his feelings. It hasn’t been this bad in years. Everything was easier from a distance.

On Wednesday Stiles disappears in the morning without saying where he’s going, only not to wait up for him. He returns in the early hours of Thursday morning, when Derek has already given up on him. And even after a few hours sleep and a shower he still smells strongly of Scott, as if they were in close proximity the whole time. Derek's mind jumps to sharing a bed without any effort, despite being aware what a ludicrous idea that is.

 

 

Logic dictates that the Morettis will try something when the pack is divided and vulnerable, maybe when Cal and Isaac are at work or after Stiles has left. They can wait it out until the pack is lulled into a false sense of security. Meanwhile Derek doesn’t dare leave the house anymore and he misses his nightly runs or just going into town. How long can he keep up this hyper-vigilance before he goes crazy?

When the attack comes, it’s not when half the pack is absent or even in the middle of the night, as expected. Instead it’s Sunday afternoon, with the whole pack in the house as well as Allison visiting. Derek's in the den when he feels a sudden uptick in his alertness, not so much a noise or a scent but a feeling of danger. He grabs up Tabitha and calls for Stiles, who’s studying in the library. The pack is already scrambling around him, alerted by his tone of voice alone.

Stiles comes skidding up to Derek and takes the baby off him. “Now?” he asks.

“Apparently,” Derek answers as he moves to the front door. “Take her upstairs.”

He sees Stiles comply out of the corner of his eyes, Tabitha cradled against his neck with one arm and his phone in his other hand. Cora is already shifting and running for the back door, followed by Isaac and a few moments later by Allison, who has pulled a crossbow from her backpack together with a large supply of arrows. He must talk to her about bringing weapons into his house without his permission but right now he can’t fault her for it. Cal and Valeska are by his side as he rushes out the front door and immediately bears to the left out of the path of any potential missiles. His betas veer to the right and Derek realizes with dismay that there are more attackers than they may be able to defeat, five or six in the front alone, all wolved out and no doubt seasoned fighters. He wonders if the rigorous training he’s forced on his pack over the last few years has been enough and if there was ever any way to prepare for an attack like this. The only thing he knows is that he’s not going to lose his third pack. If anyone is going to die here today, it will be the Morettis – or him.

Over the years, he has mastered the art of shedding his clothes as he’s shifting. Not particularly concerned with being naked, he shimmies out of his garments in seconds, leaving them in spread disarray. When he’s a full wolf, he’s faster and stronger than any ordinary alpha, so his first attack is on Marsha Moretti. She’s prepared but he’s barreling her over with his superior bulk, growling and hissing and clawing at her. Nobody attacks his pack. _Nobody! Never again!_

Two of Marsha’s betas come to her defense immediately, attacking him from left and right, trying to dislodge him from their leader. Their vicious slashes and bites stop him from doing any real harm to Marsha but he’s also not letting go of her, pinning her to the ground as he defends himself against the attacks. It’s much harder to injure a full wolf through the thick fur. It’s one of the reasons full transformations are so revered.

One of the betas is Pablo and he’s the first one to feel Derek's determination. Derek manages to claw him deeply across his chest and then sink his teeth into his side and throw him several feet across the gravel, taking a large chunk of flesh out of his body, maybe even parts of his internal organs, in the process. He’ll heal but it’ll take time – a long time. Derek spews everything in his mouth into Marsha’s face, making her cough and spit in disgust. He’s done fighting fair.

The other beta hesitates a little but soon has a third beta come to her aid. Finally Derek is toppled off the other alpha but manages to slash one of the betas across the throat showering all four of them in arterial blood. The beta staggers back and goes down, holding her throat in an effort to stop the bleeding long enough for her to heal. Either way she’ll be out of the fight for considerable time. Marsha slashes at him ferociously and he needs to retreat, especially with the male beta attacking at the same time.

From the back of the house he can hear a howl which he identifies immediately as coming from Cora. It’s an expression of pain which thankfully doesn’t sound like a mortal wound but it distracts him enough to have to retreat further when Marsha throws herself at him. He’s getting further and further away from the house and is looking for a way to double back. He doesn’t want to be separated from the rest of the pack.

For a while, he simply backs away, letting Marsha and her beta hit thin air with their claws. Through sheer instinct he anticipates Marsha trying to jump on him at exactly the right moment and feints to the left then moves at high speed in the other direction, managing to slip past the beta and race towards the house. He can see Cal and Valeska in a four-way fight with two large male betas, the two women holding their own with a ferocity born from defending their loved ones. They shouldn’t be able to win this clash but it’s the two men who are sporting various deep gashes.

Derek has no time to come to their aid as Marsha is on him again, trying to bring him down by jumping on his back. He rolls over and comes back up, shaking her off, and slashing her back as she is coming to her feet. The beta is attacking him but he manages to throw him back, then turns around to face Marsha again.

There’s loud whistle and all the members of the Moretti pack fall back immediately. Derek moves backwards towards the house slowly, a little confused what brought on this cessation of hostilities. Valeska and Cal are doing the same, edging towards the veranda and looking at him for guidance. Derek's not sure if he should shift back to start negotiations or stay wolved out in preparation to continue the fight. Something’s not right. There’s a lot of noise in the distance that shouldn’t be there, but he’s ignoring that for now.

“Stop the fight,” Marsha says, her voice growly and distorted around her fangs. “You can’t win.”

“I think we’re doing pretty well,” Cal spits out in Derek's place.

“If you don’t stop, you’re going to die,” Marsha says, looking at Derek. “Starting with your emissary.”

Derek turns to see one of Marsha’s betas drag Stiles out of the house by his upper arm. Stiles is protesting loudly, complaining about not touching the merchandise and having to buy what you break. Derek can feel his mouth go dry and his stomach clench. Not Stiles. He can’t lose Stiles. Everything slows down and comes into hyper-sharp focus suddenly. He can see the clawed finger on Stiles’s neck, pressing down hard enough to make an indent but stopping just short of breaking the skin. Stiles’s pulse is just there, roaring loudly. His breath is fast and irregular. Derek knows that his own fear is plain for all to see. It’s _Stiles_ , no amount of exercising outward calm will ever be enough to hide his feelings where Stiles is concerned.

Reluctantly he shifts back into his beta form causing Cal to watch him askance as if she fears that his shift means he’s giving up. He knows that given the choice between Stiles and Tabitha, she would choose her child in a heartbeat. And who could blame her? Derek simply can’t make that decision. He can’t lose either. “Didn’t I tell you to go upstairs?” he says and by some miracle his voice doesn’t tremble.

“I did,” Stiles protests. “And then I came back down. And you have no idea how hard I was trying not to make a dog joke when this guy whistled.”

Derek's throat is seized up and in his head there’s a litany of _shut up, please, shut up_ but he knows that no amount of pleading will keep Stiles from provoking the others even more with his incessant talk. It’s his manner of coping. All Derek can see is how his throat moves when he speaks and how little it takes to slice it.

“Enough!” Marsha shouts, as if she’s read his mind. “We’re taking the baby. You can have your mate back if you just give us the baby. Nobody needs to die here today.”

“ _No_ ,” Valeska half-wails.

“I can see a tiny little flaw in your plan,” Stiles smiles at the other alpha and Derek can see her hackles rise at the mere tone of his voice. He really managed to make her hate him. “You see, you’ve come here with all your betas spoiling for a fight. And I’d like to point out that for the numbers you brought with you, you’re doing a piss poor job. But be that as it may, you unfortunately failed to bring any humans. And that means that none of you can actually get upstairs to the child. Who has a name by the way. It’s Tabitha. And said Tabitha is safely ensconced in her crib… surrounded by mountain ash.”

“Which you can remove,” Marsha smiles coldly.

“I could. But I won’t.”

“There’s ways to make you.”

Derek steps forwards involuntarily. If they hurt Stiles, he will lose it. He _knows_ this. It’s inevitable. But he can’t see how he can get to him fast enough to stop them from hurting Stiles. For now his hands are tied but that can change in a heartbeat. All it takes is for the beta to make the tiniest mistake and Derek will have him. Unfortunately the tiniest mistake could also cost Stiles his life.

“Hey, big guy,” Stiles turns to him as if he knows what Derek's thinking. “Don’t worry. They need me alive.”

“Not necessarily,” Marsha says in a satisfied tone. “But we don’t want to kill anyone. It’ll be enough to hurt you until you do what we want.”

Stiles shrugs. “I doubt you’ll have enough time for that, not to mention that my pack won’t just stand around and let you.”

“Then after we’re done with you, I’ll just call one of my human pack members and they’ll be here soon enough.”

Stiles pulls a faux-apologetic _you-can-try-but-I’m-afraid-it won’t-work_ face and grins openly now, ignoring the claw the beta has to his throat as if it’s of no concern to him. “You won’t have time for that either. Hear that noise? I know you’ve all been busy clawing and biting at each other so you weren’t paying attention but that’s the sound of a car. Several cars in fact. And if _I_ can hear them, they’re pretty damned close. It’s what’s commonly known as the cavalry arriving.”

Derek can make out at least four cars approaching at high speed. He daren’t move much while Stiles is in danger of having his throat slit, but he bends down very slowly and puts on his jeans, shifting back to human in the process.

“Awww, Derek,” Stiles says. “You’re such a spoilsport. You know how much I like you naked.”

It’s unfathomable to Derek how Stiles can joke in situations like this. He himself may not be paralyzed with fear but he certainly couldn’t utter any pithy remarks right now.

The first car to arrive is Chris Argent’s Hummer. He doesn’t even stop out front but drives straight around the back, no doubt looking for his daughter first and foremost. The second vehicle is even more unexpected as Scott’s riding his motorcycle to a gravel-spraying stop and jumps off to come up to the veranda, his eyes fixed on Stiles. He stops at the bottom of the steps, hampered by concern for his best friend just like Derek. Then three police cruisers arrive, spreading out across the front area with half a dozen officers getting out on the far sides and aiming their rifles from behind the cars. All the werewolves shift back to human in a hurry.

Derek takes a step closer to Stiles and the beta holding him. “Unhand my mate! Very slowly and very carefully. Because if you so much as nick his skin, you’re dead, I swear.”

The beta does as he’s told, somewhat shaky now. Then he slowly walks down the stairs to his alpha. Scott moves forward towards Stiles, who gives him a one-armed hug and then walks over to Derek. Derek wants to grab him and hug him and then take him upstairs, strip him naked and inspect every inch of his body for injuries. He does none of that, but as they both turn towards the other pack, he can’t help his fingers brushing Stiles’s skin and finds Stiles grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. Stiles is never as unaffected as he’s trying to appear.

From the back of the house six strangers are herded to the front by Chris Argent, Allison, Isaac and Cora. His sister looks bloodied across her right side but seems to have healed already. She gives him a reassuring nod. The police are relaxing slightly but not lowering their guns yet. Neither have Allison and her father. Argent’s firepower is as impressive as ever.

“Hear this,” Stiles says quietly but clearly enough for the werewolves to hear. “The Hale pack and every single one of its members are protected by a treaty. The treaty is supported by our alpha, by the second alpha of Beacon Hills, Scott McCall, whom you may know as the True Alpha, and also by the Argents as the resident hunters and last but not least by the law enforcement in town. Approach or attack us again at your own peril.”

The sheriff steps forward, leaving his deputies behind and comes up to the house. After looking his son over thoroughly, he turns to Marsha. “Marsha Moretti, right?” When she nods mutely, he continues, “If I see you or any of your pack in my town again, what happened here today will result in your arrest for attempted kidnapping. None of your pack is welcome here or anywhere near here. Now you will walk to your vehicles and my deputies will make sure that you leave this area safely. I suggest you don’t come back.”

Marsha glares at him, then at Derek and finally at Stiles for the longest time.

“I don’t have to tell you again that any member of the Hale pack is under my protection, do I?” the sheriff says impatiently.

Eventually the Moretti pack just sets off at a fast pace along the path through the woods, followed by two rolling squad cars, after the sheriff motions to his team. It’ll be interesting to see what kind of cover story he’s going come up with this time. Hopefully they were all too far away to see the werewolves shift or hear what was being said.

As soon as the taillights have disappeared, Derek turns on Stiles. “You had _one_ job. I told you to go upstairs. You could have been killed.”

Stiles leans into him. “I know. Sorry.”

Without thinking, Derek wraps his arms around him and breathes deeply. “When did you set this alliance up?” His eyes are closed and his hand is tangled in Stiles’s hair.

“Over the last few days. It’s not as if you didn’t have it in place already anyway. That’s what all those Sunday lunches were for, right? This is the alliance _you_ built. I just made sure that they would drop everything and come running when I send them an SOS.”

After a while, Derek reluctantly lets go to shake hands with Chris Argent, the sheriff and even Scott. Finally all the parties in Beacon Hills have proven that their uneasy truce is in fact much more than that. He owes them and it’s unexpectedly not a bad feeling. Owing other people favors just means that they’ve come through for you when you needed it. He’ll be happy to repay them.

Stiles is getting hugged by his dad and then dragged away by Cal to remove the mountain ash barrier so she can get to Tabitha, who’s already making her displeasure known at being left alone. When her mother brings her downstairs, she gets handed from person to person and even Scott holds her for the first time when Stiles puts her in his arms. Derek finds his shirt and sits on the stairs still barefoot and without underwear, although he’s the only one aware of that. He watches all the people milling around and wonders how he managed to win them over. Stiles played a large role in that obviously but the foundation has been there for a while.

After a few minutes, Stilinski sits down next to him. Derek looks down on the ground. “I’m sorry, Stiles was put in danger again. I told him to go upstairs with Tabitha and stay behind the mountain ash barrier.” He feels as if he let the sheriff down.

“I don’t think you’ll ever manage to keep that kid out of trouble. I’ve been trying for over twenty years.”

“It’s kind of my job as his mate.”

“Well, yeah, it’s kind of my job as his father as well. A word of advice: don’t try. Stiles makes his own decisions. They’re not your responsibility or mine. He’s an adult. We have no right to interfere, much as we’d like to and despite our best intentions.”

“Since when? I always got the impression that you were relying on me to protect him.”

“Because I was selfish and wanted you to protect him when I knew I couldn’t. I also knew he’d be angry with you for it. I couldn’t help it. I’m his father. But I shouldn’t have put that on you. Not even implied.”

Derek looks at the sheriff and can’t help but agree. While he was always prioritizing Stiles’s safety as a matter of course, some part of him did it because he felt that his father had handed him that duty. He was proud that Stilinski put so much trust in him and letting him down wasn’t an option. But suddenly he’s inexplicably angry, something that’s been itching under his skin since his last session with Dr. Winter, as if admitting his anger to her has unleashed it in all sorts of ways. “Well, it only cost me my relationship with Stiles,” he says coldly. “So no biggie.”

There’s a pause in which Stilinski seems to nod habitually before the meaning of the words catches up to him and he does a double-take. Derek deliberately keeps his eyes on the tree line, trying to get his temper back under control. This is just frayed nerves from the melee or trying to find a scapegoat for his own fuck-ups. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s finally done with taking everything lying down. Eventually he gets up and looks down at the sheriff. “I was struggling and I know it’s not your responsibility to fix that but if you knew that he would blame me and you never tried to even warn me because it was more convenient for you, then that was shabby of you.”

Stilinski looks shocked. “I won’t apologize for wanting Stiles safe but I am apologizing for putting his safety on you, son. For what it’s worth, you were the only other person I trusted with his life. And the same is true today.”

“Maybe you should trust your son. Because I do. I won’t hold something against you that happened years ago before we were friends but I have to say this once and I want you to hear me. What you did was selfish and unkind and I didn’t deserve it.” He turns and, ignoring everyone staring at the two of them having an argument, he stalks off into the woods.

And finally, after way too long, he starts to run. Even in his human form – it’s broad daylight after all – it feels good, exhilarating, not just the running but also the knowledge that for once he didn’t keep his grievances to himself. He did deserve better than having Stilinski’s parental baggage added to his own when he was just trying to find out how to have a proper relationship for the first time. He doesn’t blame the sheriff for his own failures but he needed to let him know that he didn’t appreciate the added stress. Part of him fears that this will spell the end of their friendship. Everybody leaves. It’s a fact of life, well, _his_ life anyway. But another part of him feels light and relieved. You can’t build relationships on suppressing your own feelings. It’ll warp you until you’re unrecognizable to yourself and what is more, in the long run it won’t work. He knows that only too well.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**10.**

 

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER  _

General impression:

Derek arrives with time to spare. He is clean-shaven and well-dressed as usual. Without any prior notice he has brought with him his mate, Stiles Stilinski. According to Patty, both of them passed their waiting time nervously and in complete silence – Stiles with his legs in perpetual motion and chewing on the corners of his fingernail and Derek by pacing slowly up and down. When they enter the consultation room, there’s an immediate atmosphere of heightened emotions. Derek waits for Stiles to sit down (not assisting, just waiting) before he takes a seat (it looks habitual, protective).

I am somewhat unprepared for this turn of events and would have liked time to structure a session with the both of them in advance. I feel that without set lines to follow, Stiles will simply overwhelm Derek with his superior verbal skills (or rather: ‘superior output’ because Derek is by no means ineloquent, just less inclined to speak). But as I asked for a joint session to begin with, I feel it would not be beneficial for Derek if we postpone this now, when he has clearly taken my suggestion to heart after being reluctant for so long.

 

Known background:

Derek and Stiles have been mates for a nearly 5 y. Their union was not witnessed but is nonetheless binding through numerous public declarations and most of all their own commitment. However, in those 5 y. they have only been together for 8 mths. After that Stiles severed the relationship and Derek made no attempts at contact until 2 wks ago (not counting watching his mate from a distance).

 

_ Transcript from the recording: _

AW: Welcome. It’s nice to see the both of you, although I must profess myself quite surprised.

DH: Well, you said he should be here, so I brought him.

SS ( _muttering_ ): And he’s sitting right here, hearing you perfectly.

DH: Can you _not_? I was explaining your presence. It’s not as if this was my idea. You’re the one who couldn’t keep away.

SS: I said I was sorry. Jeez, Derek, do we have to do this in front of other people? ( _Looks at me_ ) I apologize. I realize you’re also right here.

AW: Don’t mind me. Say whatever you have to say to each other. That’s kind of the idea. But I have to tell you both but especially you, Stiles, that I’m not a marriage councilor. This is not partnership mediation. We’re here for Derek and Derek alone. This is not so that you two can get back together or anything like that. It’s for Derek to find closure.

SS: Cl-closure?

DH: …

AW: Derek, maybe you would like to elaborate on the remark you just made about Stiles not keeping away? Was this in reference to what happened two weeks ago? When Stiles turned up here and spoke to me?

DH: Yes.

AW: And what would you like to say?

DH: That I didn’t appreciate it.

AW: Don’t say it to me. Stiles is here. Say it to him.

SS ( _mutters to himself_ ): Yeah, why don’t you? Just lay into me. Apparently that’s what we’re here for.

DH ( _turning to Stiles, annoyed):_ … Now it’s my fault that you’re here? How dare you? How dare you follow me around and spy on me? And now you’re complaining? If you didn’t want to be involved, all you had to do was leave me be.

SS: Well, _excuse me_ for being concerned. Do you even know that Cora's worried sick about you? You think we’re just being nosy? She asked me to find out what you’re doing because she was worried about you. Your whole pack is worried when you disappear without explanation. They just don’t feel it’s their place to ask questions. I don’t care about that. I’ll do whatever it takes.

DH: Like spy on me?

SS: Whatever it takes to keep you safe, dumbass. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay. And I’m willing to face the consequences if I must. So sue me for caring.

DH ( _cold_ ): You haven’t cared in a long time. If you ever did.

SS ( _whispers, incredulous, eyes closed)_ : You cannot be serious.

DH: Oh, I’m deadly serious. I haven’t heard from you in four years. One day you just decided you didn’t want to be with me anymore and just up and left. And I was left to pick up the pieces.

SS ( _sarcastic_ ): And what pieces would that be, Derek? Because it certainly wasn’t the pieces of our relationship.

DH ( _clearly confused_ ): Huh?

SS ( _agitated, which he remains throughout_ ): Not once did you try and mend things. You never tried to contact me or ask me to talk or… I don’t know, do something to try and get me to come back.

DH: You said it was over.

SS: I said it wasn’t working for me. And to me that meant that we find a way to _make_ it work, not give up on it. I was convinced you’d get a bit of a shock when I broke up with you and you’d start realizing that you can’t make decisions for me and then you’d come after me. But you never did. You let me go. You weren’t supposed to let me go.

DH ( _agitated_ ): What? How was I supposed to know that?

SS ( _exasperated_ ): Everybody knows that. If you love someone, you go after them.

DH: I thought it was, if you love someone, set them free.

SS: That’s bullshit. You can only set yourself free. I was letting you know that I wouldn’t let you make decisions for me, that I needed to be an equal partner. But just saying it to you obviously didn’t work, so in the end I broke up with you. I wanted you to know that you couldn’t just do what you wanted and ignore what I wanted. That you needed to curb your instincts and let me do what I decide. That’s the setting free part. But you were never meant to let me go. You were meant to get your act together and then we could start fresh. As equal partners. I knew you would never get to that point if I didn’t shock you into it.

DH: But… why did you never say anything? I was just doing what you said you wanted.

SS ( _despondent_ ): I waited and waited and waited and then I started thinking. Maybe you were glad that it happened. I mean I’m your mate for _life_. You’re tied to me _forever_. You can’t really get rid of me unless _I_ do it. And I started wondering if I hadn’t done you a favor. If that was what you wanted, to be rid of me through no fault of your own, that maybe you didn’t really love me at all.

DH ( _shocked_ ): How can you say that? You destroyed me when you left. And still I let you have your freedom and make your own decisions. You wanted to go to college and I didn’t want to take that from you. I supported you in that decision.

SS ( _furious_ ): _Support?_ You call that _support_? We were planning to go to college _together_. Remember those plans? You were supposed to come with me. ( _calmer_ ) And then you started pushing me away. Your support consisted of letting me go. That’s not support, Derek. Support is when you help your partner achieve what they want _with_ them. When you try your hardest to make it work _together_. If you push them out the door so they can achieve their dreams, that’s not support, that’s washing your hands of them.

DH: I was respecting you. I had no right to take that from you, college, the freedom, living your own life.

SS: _You_ were my life. Yes, I wanted all that, but I wanted it _with you_.

DH: You should have said!

SS: I was barely eighteen, Derek. You were my first relationship, my first everything. When you didn’t come after me, I was devastated. And then you got yourself a pack with responsibilities and people who were more important to you. And I tried… I tried so hard… Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up next to the wrong person? I felt sick every time. No matter how much I liked them, they were never enough.

DH ( _sarcastic_ ): Well, you gave it enough tries, didn’t you?

SS: …

DH: I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for. I didn’t mean that. It was just hard for me to watch you with other people.

SS: I was in Stanford, Derek. I always made very sure not to do that on your doorstep. I never brought anyone home. So you didn’t actually have to _watch_ any of tha…t… oh my god… you did, didn’t you? You were actually in Stanford and you saw me, didn’t you?

DH: …

SS: You were in Stanford and you never even came to see me? When? How many times?

DH: …

SS ( _angry_ ): Answer me, dammit! I have a right to know when I’m being stalked.

DH ( _apologetic_ ): I didn’t _stalk_ you. I went down there to make sure you were okay. You’re pack. I watched who you interacted with and made sure they weren’t a threat.

SS: I hang out with college students. How much of a threat can they possibly be?

DH: There was that Rachel in your first year. She was from a pack in Oregon. I went up there and made sure there wouldn’t be any trouble. I was just looking out for you.

SS: How many times?

DH ( _without eye contact, clearly embarrassed_ ): Every weekend that you weren’t with your dad or Scott or in Beacon Hills.

SS: Every… you were there _all those times_ , watching me? Did you not see what a mess I was? Did you not care?

DH: You had friends. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. You went to parties. You studied. I saw a normal college student.

SS ( _rubs his face with both hands and shaking his head_ ): I don’t believe this… ( _looks up_ ) So you stalked me for the last four years and yet when I follow you one time, you haul me in here to complain about it in front of the head mistress?

DH: Not the same thing.

SS ( _huffs)_ : Really, then enlighten me, please, as to the difference.

DH: You were snooping.

SS: I was looking out for you. But of course, when I do it, it’s snooping but when you do it, it’s what exactly?

DH: I was protecting you. You’re pack. It’s different.

SS ( _sarcastic_ ): _Of course_ , as long as it’s a _pack_ thing, that makes it all better.

DH ( _mutters to himself_ ): You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a wolf.

SS ( _shouting furiously_ ): _Don’t you fucking dare!_

DH ( _jolts a little_ ): What? You aren’t a wolf. You don’t know what it feels like.

SS ( _quieter, sarcastic_ ): Of course, I don’t. I’m just a mere human. Couldn’t possible understand you or feel what you feel.

DH: Well, you can’t. Maybe that’s part of the problem.

SS: And there you go again. When we were together, I couldn’t possibly know my own mind because I was too young. So you made up my mind for me. And now I still can’t possibly know what it’s like because I’m not a wolf. Well, here’s a newsflash for you, _Mr Wolf_ , being a werewolf doesn’t give you a monopoly on feelings. Human feelings are just as intense and passionate and deep and lasting and... _fucking valid_ as yours are.

DH: … I know that.

SS: Really?  Because you _crushed_ me. I was so in love with you and you just refused to believe it was real. That was worse than not loving me back. It was arrogant and condescending and downright cruel. You saw my feelings for you and you completely denied them like they didn’t matter. Like your love was the real thing and mine was just an imitation, like I was just playing at being in love. And you know what? I think you’re just telling yourself that because you’re too afraid to deal with someone on an equal footing. God help you, if you actually had to have an adult relationship where you need to open up and negotiate and admit your own feelings.

DH: I love you.

SS ( _takes a long breath_ ): … _Fuck! You!_ Now you’re just being deliberately obtuse. It was never about telling me that you love me. _I knew that_. That much was obvious. It’s about believing me, believing _in_ me, about _seeing_ me completely, not just the front I put up but behind it. And I thought you did that. But how can you know me when you don’t even believe the most obvious thing about me? When you belittle my feelings... it’s arrogant and callous and I deserved better.

AW: Can I just stop you there, Stiles, because this is not about your feelings or your broken relationship.

DH: _Don’t tell him to shut up!_ I’ve waited for years to find out what went wrong, we’re not stopping now. ( _To Stiles_ ) I never doubted that you loved me.

SS: Yes, you did. You never doubted that I _believed_ I loved you. But you always thought it was just temporary, just a crush that would blow over. You always had this idea that I would just leave you for no reason just because I got bored or found something better to do with my time.

DH: Yeah and then you did. So I wasn’t wrong.

SS: You were _completely_ wrong! My love for you was no different from yours. It was kind of... all-consuming and yes I know that’s what all teenagers feel but that doesn’t make it any less real. Some people actually know what love really is even at that age. Lydia was a crush. I didn’t even know her then. But you... I knew you and that wasn’t a crush, that was love.

DH: And then you just gave up.

SS: No, I didn’t. It was a tactic to shake things up. And boy, did it backfire on me.

DH: ...

AW: Excuse me a moment. I will leave now and let you talk, if you feel comfortable doing that. ( _Derek nods distractedly_ ). I’ll be just outside if you need me.

 

General session notes:

Derek and Stiles have started talking openly about their relationship for what is probably the first time since they broke up. My fears that Stiles will overwhelm Derek and talk him down have not proven correct so far. This is mainly down to the fact that Stiles seems as unfinished with the relationship as Derek is. It makes him vulnerable but there is also an underlying sense of care between them that makes me confident that they will keep within certain parameters. While most couple sessions turn quite vicious at some point, Stiles and Derek draw the line at hurting each other deliberately. They both seem very keen to finally talk this out. It wasn’t exactly my intention to make them talk about their feelings, other than their feelings at the point of their break-up as this weighs heavily on Derek’s mind and fosters his abandonment issues.

At this point I excused myself from the room. My assumption is that they will move from talking about their past feelings to talking about their present ones. They can do that easier if they are on their own. I will leave them to it for now and pick up my sessions with Derek next week.

 

*** * * * ***

 

There’s a long silence when Dr. Winter leaves the room after telling them to keep going. Derek feels her absence like the sudden loss of a buffer as if he needs protecting from Stiles. The fact is that he has compartmentalized his therapy sessions completely. To some extent what he says here never seems real like he’s shouting into a void, only the void reacts and steers him. The treatment’s something he decided he needs to do for himself, a short-term agony to make him feel better in the long run because by now it has become patently obvious that he can’t do it on his own. So far it has been completely removed from the rest of his life, which helps him open up. One of the reasons he can do this is because Dr. Winter doesn’t judge him and most of all doesn’t feel sorry for him. But now that they’re alone, he can no longer pretend to himself that what he says to Stiles is just getting things off his chest without consequences. Now he’s very much aware that Stiles will remember this and maybe even want to talk about it later and, crucially, that it will impact on their relationship. He looks up when Stiles clears his throat.

“Did you really secretly watch me all this time?” It comes out almost like an accusation, as if Stiles actually feels stalked and resents him for it.

“I watched _over_ you, Stiles.”

“Why did you never speak to me?” Now he’s sounding upset and that’s even worse.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to. It’s been three summers – four if you count the one before you went away – and not once did I see you when you were home. Before, I couldn’t help bumping into you everywhere but in all this time I didn’t see you once. I knew you were in town but you were practically invisible. Don’t tell me that wasn’t deliberate.”

“Of course, it was deliberate.” There’s a flare of anger again but it dies down immediately to give way to resignation. “I thought you were playing happy families with Valeska. I didn’t want to see _that_.”

Derek can certainly appreciate that sentiment. “Well, now you know how I felt seeing you with other people.”

“They didn’t mean anything.”

Derek is silent for a moment. He's been denying how strong his feelings for Stiles still are for so long it’s hard to admit them out loud. “I was alright with it, kind of, until you started dating. I could see… I told myself that it didn’t mean anything if you never saw them again. But when they started to hang around…” The first one was a girl called Miranda. Seeing her with Stiles again the next day and the weekend after that had cut deep. Derek had felt sick for days afterwards until the sheriff mentioned in his deliberately casual style that Miranda was no longer around by complaining he never even got to meet her. Derek's profound relief had been followed immediately by guilt in case Stiles was suffering the pangs of a broken heart. But despite feeling like a jealous jerk and genuinely wanting Stiles to be happy, he preferred him to be happy and single.

“You realize I forced myself to date only because I thought you and Valeska had a baby together, right?”

It’s good that Stiles isn’t a werewolf, so he can’t detect Derek's heart picking up speed. He tries to calm himself because it doesn’t necessarily mean what he wants it to mean. On the other hand, Stiles has been ‘dating’ for less than a year, presumably since he’s known that Valeska was pregnant. So if he’s still been affected by what Derek does that recently, then maybe he hasn’t moved on. And if he hasn’t moved on… “It’s difficult to tell your motivation from a distance. I could only go by what I saw. But it’s good to know?” It comes out haltingly because he doesn’t know how to proceed. He hopes that Stiles still has feelings for him, feelings that go beyond being hurt by what happened between them, beyond friendship with benefits, beyond being jealous.

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure your ego’s ecstatic.”

“Maybe not my ego so much.” The ‘but my heart’ remains unsaid.

Stiles gives him a long look and sighs. “We really fucked up, didn’t we?”

Derek nods slowly. “I tried not to put any pressure on you. I wanted you to be able to walk away at any point.”

“That’s not how it works, Derek. Remember how we started? How I practically persuaded you to give us a chance? And then I had to wheedle you into having sex. Not just the first time. _All the time_. And that just felt terrible. If you make me do all the work, it just feels like I’m _coercing_ you. You may be physically stronger than I am but with the right emotional leverage, anybody can take you apart.”

Looking down at the floor, Derek shakes his head. “Not like you can.”

“Will you just stop? I didn’t know what I was doing, okay? I was just playing it by ear and I had basically no help from you. It was like you put me on a pedestal and then just did what I wanted or what you _thought_ I wanted. I didn’t want that. That’s not a relationship. I wanted you to be you. If you just did whatever I wanted, how could you even enjoy being with me?”

“I treasured every moment with you… because I knew I’d lose you. I knew you’d leave. So I appreciated… _loved_ every second.”

Stiles looks at him and he looks close to tears. His voice is a little shaky when he says, “How could you… if you were afraid the whole time?”

There is nothing to say to that. Derek can well remember how he felt when he was with Stiles, the overwhelming love he had for him, the very concrete fear for his life and the more diffuse but no less painful expectation of getting hurt in the end. He can remember the agony when it finally happened, when Stiles walked away. And he can feel it again now, knowing that Stiles will leave again, that he will be alone again. Maybe Cora was right to be concerned how he would cope the second time around.

“If you’d just trusted me,” Stiles says resignedly. “If you’d believed me when I said I loved you, if you’d left me to make my own decisions… actually scratch that, that’s not the problem. If you could just trust yourself, trust that people do love you, that they want to be with you just because you’re you, because you’re awesome, you’re a great alpha, a great friend, even my dad thinks so. You’re amazing, beautiful, generous, brave, smart, funny, loving… anyone would be lucky to have you. But at seventeen I wasn’t the person to help you realize that. I could barely cope with my own insecurities. I just knew that I loved you and wanted to be close to you. But telling you that over and over didn’t help and I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was enabling you because I knew I wasn’t really helping, maybe even making it worse.”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Likewise. But I needed more. Sometimes it felt that we were mainly having sex and don’t get me wrong, the sex was fantastic, but I have since realized that normal people don’t have quite that much sex. Not for months on end. I loved it, I really did, but at the same time, I missed being close in other ways as well. Sometimes I felt we were so close. We talked about so many things but… you always held back, always. I think that’s one of the reasons we did have so much sex. I just wanted to be close to you. And it was great. But it wasn’t close enough.”

“I felt the same way,” Derek finally admits. “I tried and tried and it was never enough. You were always just out of reach.”

“You can’t reach someone if you hide behind walls.”

Derek nods silently, knowing that Stiles is right.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it work, Derek. I really tried. Maybe if I was stronger… I gave up in the end. I still hate myself for that.”

“It wasn’t your job to fix me, Stiles.”

“That’s just it, you don’t need fixing. You just need to believe that.”

Derek gestures around the room. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Stiles gives him a soft smile and they sit in silence for a long while. Derek tries to prepare himself for the inevitable parting. They came here in separate cars so that Stiles can go on to Stanford to catch up on his studies and finish them. Derek will go home and the thought makes him feel so desolate, he can no longer look at Stiles because he can barely breathe. They’ve cleared the air of sorts and he’s glad he’s gotten some answers. None of that is making letting Stiles go one iota easier.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Stiles finally asks and there’s nothing of the lascivious undertone in his voice that would have accompanied that remark during their relationship or even over the last two weeks.

“Sure,” he says and gets up. He can’t think of anything else to say.

After confirming his appointment for next week, he walks Stiles to his car to prolong their time together just that little bit longer. The way Stiles is dragging his feet makes him wonder if he’s doing the same. He determinedly bunches his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing Stiles. Watching him unlock the jeep, Derek clears his throat and says, “Thank you for helping us with the negotiations. And also for coming here with me today.”

“Did it help?” Stiles is nervously playing with his keys.

This is the first time that Derek got the opportunity to find some kind of closure after a loss. There are too many unsaid goodbyes in his life that torment him endlessly. Maybe this is what he needed. Maybe in time it will be enough to make him heal. “I got some answers.”

“I see. And what are you going to do with those answers?”

Derek shrugs. “Think about them, I suppose.”

Stiles presses his lips together and nods. “Of course. You do that. It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

They hug for a long time, initiated by Stiles simply stepping forward and folding his arms around his neck. Derek has to force himself to let go when it’s over and steps back a little on the sidewalk to let Stiles get into his car. His heart is beating too fast and it’s making his whole chest hurt.

Stiles lifts his hand in goodbye after he starts the engine and then just sits there for half a minute, looking straight ahead. Finally he climbs back out of the car, leaving it idling with the door open. He steps close to Derek and for a moment he seems like seventeen again, all uncoordinated awkwardness and anxious uncertainty. “I wanted to make one thing very clear,” he says in a slightly raised voice over the engine noise. “With all the stupid things I’ve done in my life, I’ve never regretted anything so much as breaking up with you.” He takes a noisy breath through his nose and gets back into his jeep to drive away without another look.

Derek's heart breaks into a million pieces all over again.

 

 

Before he goes home, he stops off on the outskirts of the preserve for a lengthy run. He’s hoping to clear his head because he’s not much less confused than he was this morning. It’s good to know that Stiles didn’t just fall out of love with him or got bored or any of the other reasons Derek has contemplated over the years. He feels elated that he was loved at least, that Stiles wanted to stay with him but couldn’t find a way. But once his heart stops doing somersaults at the thought, he starts wondering about the present.

He may be inept at relationships because of his incessant self-doubt but he’s very good at reading people. He couldn’t be a mediator without it. Over the last two weeks Stiles has shown him a lot of attention and affection. There were physical clues, like ‘accidental’ touching while they talked, prolonged eye contact, not to mention sex on two occasions. There was flirting, the timbre of his voice when he spoke to Derek, and the very much expressed declarations of today. Stiles has basically told him that he regrets breaking up with him. It wasn’t a ‘ _I’m sorry about hurting you, let’s be friends’_ it was more like _‘I made a mistake and I still wish I could change it’._ Derek goes over everything Stiles said today several times and his conclusion is the same every time: Stiles still has feelings for him. It doesn't come as an astounding revelation because deep down he knew this already.

He’s reached the highest point in the preserve and looks over Beacon Hills for a couple of minutes. Is he mistaken? He knows what Stiles is like when he’s in love. He’s lived it for eight months and he remembers it as if it was yesterday. And the Stiles from the last two weeks was the same as the Stiles from four years ago, maybe not as demonstrative, but the looks, the scent, the voice and even the chemo signals were unmistakable. So why did he walk away again? It’s not as if he could have missed that Derek feels the same. Derek even said it to him this morning, quite unambiguously and without any caveats, ‘I love you’. Both of them were reluctant to leave in the end. It was obvious. So why aren’t they still standing by Stiles’s Jeep making out like a couple of teenagers or at least promised each other they would do that as soon as possible? Is he wrong? Is all this just wishful thinking? He starts down the hill again. It’s time to go home.

When he enters the kitchen, Cora and Valeska are having a late lunch, watching his entrance in silence. Almost immediately Tabitha strains her arms towards him from Cora’s lap and he picks her up and sits down for a coffee before his shower.

His ruminations haven’t really gotten him anywhere. If he’s right, then he can’t work out why he’s sitting here on his own thinking about it. Stiles _must_ know how he feels. He’s too astute not to, so why would he not say something? That’s not like him at all. And if Derek’s wrong, how could he misjudge the signals so profoundly?

“Where did you go this time?” Cora asks without her usual snide.

Derek realizes for the first time how right Stiles was when he said that she’s worried about him. It’s there in every gesture and every word. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing a councilor for the last few weeks.”

There’s utter silence in the kitchen for a full minute. Even Tabitha doesn’t stir. Then Cora leans over and gives him a long hug. “Good for you,” she says quietly.

Valeska smiles at him from across the table. “How is it going?”

He shrugs. “Early days yet. I’d expect it’s a long process.”

Cora leans back and picks up her coffee mug. “Stiles knows, right?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Thought so. He told me he didn’t know where you go. I knew he was lying.”

“Luckily he didn’t need your twenty bucks that desperately.”

“Oh god, he told you that? Wait till I see him next.”

Derek huffs a humorless laugh. “Ah well, I wouldn’t hold my breath for that to happen anytime soon.”

The two women exchange a look of dismay. “You two haven’t patched things up?” Valeska asks.

Derek shrugs. “I believe it was more about closure than a new beginning.”

His sister snorts indelicately. “Boy, you really do need help, don’t you?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You just carry on what you’ve been doing. Worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it?”

Derek gets up and hands Tabitha back to her mother. “I’m going to have a shower.”

 

 

The police cruiser rolls slowly over the gravel and comes to a stop next to the Camaro just as Derek comes down the veranda steps to leave. The sheriff lifts his hand in greeting then gets out and leans against the car. Derek stops by his own car and does the same.

“Hey,” Stilinski says.

“Hey.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“A few minutes won’t make a difference. What can I do for you? Or is this a social visit? In that case, it’s not the best time. I’m just on my way out.”

“It won’t take long. Hopefully. I just wanted to make sure we’re good.”

Derek stops thinking about where he’s going and focuses on the sheriff. “I told you I won’t hold anything against you that you did before we were friends. You’re Stiles’s dad. You wanted him safe. It’s natural. I would have appreciated a heads up but I don’t really believe that I wouldn’t’ve messed it up in that case. It wasn’t your job to give me relationship advice.”

“I appreciate your generosity, son, but there was something you said yesterday. You said that you deserved better. And I wanted to make sure that you know that I agree. I always have. You’ve been through a lot of nasty stuff in your life. I wish I could have found it in my heart to try and make it a little easier for you. I’d like to think that I would nowadays but it’s easy to say that now. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Derek lowers his eyes and smiles. He can’t help but feel warmed whenever Stilinski showers him in fatherliness. It doesn’t happen all the time but when it does, he enjoys it. “You could do me a favor,” he says, looking up.

“Name it.”

“Talk to Stiles. Next time you two have a quiet moment together, talk to him and tell him what a great son he is.”

The sheriff scratches his head, very much like his son does when he feels awkward. “Uhm, we’re not really the type to talk about their feelings a lot. I’m sure he knows.”

Derek smiles wanly. “Yeah, but I knew you were sorry, too, and it was still good to hear it just now.”

Stilinski’s smile is also very much like Stiles’s, a little lob-sided, half amused and half affectionate. “You got me there. Okay, I promise I’ll talk to him.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“And where are you off to now?”

Both of them are already jangling with their car keys, ready to go.

Derek grins. “Stanford.”

 

    

In the evening he knocks impatiently on the door of Stiles’s dorm room.

Eventually Terrence opens it, looks him up and down and says, “Wait,” before disappearing into the room and returning with his jacket. As he pulls it on, he squeezes past Derek. “He hasn’t said two words to me since he got back. Literally. I’m not putting up with this shit for the rest of the term. So, even though I’m not normally this generous, if you can get him out of his funk, I’ll stay with my buddy tonight.”

Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that and just nods solemnly and watches him walk down the corridor.

“And open the window when you’re done,” Terrence shouts before rounding the corner.

Derek hears some giggles from a couple of girls passing by and flees through the open dorm room door. Stiles is lying on his bed with his headphones on but jumps up when he sees Derek in his room. He almost stumbles in his haste but finds his balance at the last moment and yanks his earbuds out.

“Derek. What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“I did some thinking.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, I realize that’s a major event in your life.”

“Shut up,” he growls but feels encouraged by the lighthearted tone. “You said you regret breaking up with me. And that you didn’t really want to do it. Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

“You think I don’t know? You think I don’t realize that your biggest fear was losing me and then I made it happen? That I made everything ten times worse for you? I think about that all the time. And I still don’t know what else I could've done. I told you over and over again how I felt and you weren’t listening to me. I just wish I’d found a better way.”

Derek looks at him and knows there’s something missing, something he needs from Stiles.

After a while Stiles lowers his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, Derek. I hurt you and what’s worse is that I knew I was hurting you when I did it. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t go on like we were. But I’m sorry. I was wrong. Because you loved me and I loved you and that should have been enough to find another way. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

And there it is. He wasn’t even aware how much he needed to hear it before he did, how much he needed Stiles to acknowledge his feelings. Now it's his turn. “I should have trusted you,” he says finally. “I was just so afraid of losing you.”

“I know. But even that wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have trusted you,” he repeats. “I’m sorry that I didn’t. You’re right. I disregarded your feelings as if they didn’t matter. They did. They meant everything to me. They still do. And I have no right to assume that they mean less because you were young or because you’re human. I was just mentally preparing myself to lose you. I know your feelings are no less than mine. You must know how amazing I think you are. And that made me wonder why you were with me in the first place. I always thought that one day you would realize how great you are and that you can do better. So it was more about me than about you. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you to make your own decisions or know your own feelings. I should’ve done.”

“Yeah, you should’ve. So does this mean that you finally got your act together? Because I thought that last time you turned up here. So I jumped the gun a little and kissed you. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

“I’m getting it together right now?”

Stiles gives him a radiant smile.

Derek really hopes that he’s not misinterpreting anything, that the epiphany he had in the shower wasn’t just a crazy idea born from desperation. “You told me that I should have told you what I want instead of always trying to do what you want. So I’m telling you now: I want you to come home.”

“I will. I’m only going to be here another six weeks and then I’m coming back to Beacon Hills. I’ve been accepted to the police academy but I can commute there…” He trails off when Derek glares at him with his eyebrows drawn together in an annoyed frown. “What?”

“Now who’s being deliberately obtuse? When you come home, I want you to _come. home._ ”

“Oh.” Stiles smirks a little, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

Derek doesn’t feel like smiling because he knows he has to get this right. “I am _asking_ you if you want to come home… to me. And I am _telling_ you… that I want you to.”

There’s a brilliant grin that’s hard not to return. “I do. I do want to. I...” Stiles steps forward but stops and loses his smile when Derek steps back and folds his arms. “Oh. Sorry, dude, I… seem to have gotten my wires crossed. Again. Did I get my wires crossed? I thought you wanted to get back together?” He looks thoroughly confused now.

“Your wires aren’t crossed. But there’s something I need from you. You have to promise me one thing. Everything else is negotiable. This is _not_.” It’s incredibly hard for Derek to not just let it go when Stiles looks at him like he does now, worried and a little scared, but also hopeful. He takes a deep breath. “You will never, absolutely _never,_ under any circumstances _whatsoever_ use breaking up with me or any other form of shock tactic to teach me a lesson. I am _done_ with getting hurt.”

There are tears in Stiles’s eyes now. “I promise,” he whispers, then more forcefully. “I promise. I would never do that again. Absolutely not, nothing could be further from my mind, so far from my mind that I can’t even think it. I… I just wanna come home. I’m tired of missing you. All this time I was missing you and I couldn’t do anything about it because if I made the first move again, we would be back to square one. It had to come from you. So I had to wait. And boy did you make me wait a long time! And now you’re finally here but you’re all the way over there and I’m over here. And I’m worried that if I don’t say the right things right now, you’ll walk out that door and never come back. And I’ll just be miserable for the rest of my life. And you’ll be miserable because you’re lost without me. And…”

Stiles stops his rant when Derek steps up close to him. The relief is threatening to bring Derek to his knees. It wasn’t just a crazy idea. Stiles really was waiting for him to start reaching out for what he wants. “I’m going to kiss you now and if you want me to stop doing that or stop touching you or anything else now or in the future, I’ll expect you to let me know. I won’t wait for you to make the first move all the time any longer and I will assume consent until further notice. Are we agreed?”

Stiles seems to have lost a little focus staring at his lips but eventually he nods. “Totally. But I wouldn’t expect any objections on my part for a long, long time – or ever.”

Derek can live with that.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

Derek smiles down at Tabitha who’s straining to make the swing seat he’s sitting on rock, unaware that he’s stopping it with his foot. Her lack of success doesn’t deter her from trying though, so occasionally he lets go and allows himself to be rocked a little, making her giggle happily at her achievement. At nearly three years old, she is equally inquisitive and tenacious, fitting right in with the pack.

Today they are alone at the house. Cal has gone into town with Tabitha’s little brother for a postnatal appointment, Cora is spending two months with her fiancé’s pack before Max will move in here and everyone else is at work. Until now. Derek’s no longer surprised by the warm feeling that washes over him every time Stiles enters the room or is on the phone or even just when he hears his car on the asphalted road through the woods like he does now. It doesn’t matter whether they’ve been apart for five minutes or five hours or on one unhappy occasion five days, the feeling of joy is always the same. Somehow they have morphed into one of those sappy couples that are together almost all of their spare time. The only people they deliberately seek out separately are Scott when Stiles decides it’s _bro time_ and the sheriff when he and Derek go fishing.

He watches as Stiles parks the police cruiser between his old Jeep and the Camaro and lifts his hand in greeting before he gets out. Returning the gesture with one hand, Derek holds on to the back of Tabitha’s overalls with the other, while she’s straining to get to Stiles, saying, “Sties, Sties,” over and over again. He waits until his mate has reached the veranda and bent down on one knee with outstretched arms before he lets her go. She toddles towards the new arrival as fast as her little legs will carry her.

“And how is my little sweetheart to…” Stiles frowns in confusion at the child – alerting Derek instantly – then finishes lamely, “…day?” He picks her up and lifts her high into the air while he’s getting up, much to her squealing delight. Then he bends down to kiss Derek, keeping Tabitha on his hip and out of the way.

“Tabitha wants kiss too,” she demands and Stiles kisses her nose, making her rub it with stubby fingers. “Tickles.”

He takes a seat next to Derek and sets her down in front of them. “Did you see it?”

“See what?” Derek checks her over for injuries or sickness but can’t detect anything.

“She flashed her eyes at me just now.”

“Really?” He looks at her eyes closely. They’re dark brown and they often joke that she got those from her other mother when it’s most likely Marco’s ancestry. Tabitha beams at him in her usual happy mood. As long as she’s got everyone’s attention, all is right in her world. Remembering a game his mother used to play, Derek closes his eyes, then opens them suddenly flashing red. Tabitha giggles. He does the same in reverse, eliciting another giggle, then he flashes them red again. Tabitha squeezes her eyes comically tight, then opens them flashing yellow. “That’s my girl,” Derek says happily and lifts her onto his lap for a celebratory cuddle. “You’re gonna show your mommies what you can do later on?”

Stiles chuckles. “Yeah, we’re all gonna be really excited for about a week and then we’re all gonna try our hardest to teach her not to do that anymore. Like you teach your children to talk and then tell them to shut up all the time. Didn’t you tell me the wolf doesn’t come through until puberty?”

“Sometimes it comes out early. She’ll be fine.” So Tabitha won’t be going to kindergarten any time soon but between them the pack will teach her before she goes to school.

“Yeah, it’s good to know that we don’t have to worry about every little scrape anymore.” Stiles pats her hair a little and her smile looks almost feral as she’s trying to chew the fleshy part of her hand at the same time. “I’ll get changed.”

Derek follows him with his eyes as he walks into the house, while rocking a now sleepy Tabitha to drift off. He could watch Stiles all day every day and never lose interest especially when he’s in his uniform. What he loves most about it is that looking at him walking away doesn’t evoke painful memories anymore. He no longer fears that it means Stiles won’t be back, so he can appreciate the view without reserve.

“Enjoyed looking at my ass?” Stiles says quietly from within the house.

Derek smirks to himself.

He listens to Stiles taking the stairs two at a time. Derek knows exactly what he’s going to do. You can’t live with someone and not be familiar with their everyday moves. First he’ll lock his gun away in the safe in their bedroom – which will now have to be laced with mountain ash to make sure no inquisitive little werewolves can get to it. Next Stiles will take off his uniform, drop it in the hamper and go into the shower. So many things in Derek's life are routine nowadays and he finds contentment in that. Out here in the middle of the woods everything is peaceful and – apart from Stiles’s off-key singing in the shower – quiet.

By the time another car approaches, Tabitha barely stirs. Derek watches Allison park her car on the gravel area and she waves cheerily at him before disappearing around the side of the house. When she and Isaac got married three months ago, the whole pack had built them a new extension at the side of the house as a wedding present. It was a compromise to allay Chris Argent’s uneasiness at the thought of his only child moving in with the Hale pack. It really makes no difference as the connecting door is always open and the newlyweds spend most of their time in the main house. Derek finds he doesn’t even mind having Chris over two or three times a week. To his surprise, he’s come to like the Argents. With Stiles’s help he has bridged the gap between not blaming them personally for what Kate did in theory and actually feeling it. Stiles also brought out sides of Allison that Derek never saw before and made him finally understand what Isaac sees in her. Isaac’s look of joy when he noticed for the first time that Derek was treating Allison as part of the pack was heartwarming.

Stiles calls Isaac and Allison’s living quarters the West Wing, even though it’s actually more north-westerly but it distinguishes it from the new extension they’re building on the other side, which is now mostly called the East Wing. They finally had enough of having their visitors in their own house during mediations when one party last year brought all of their unruly children with them, seven in total. To be fair, the dispute was about said children and a lone alpha, which had brought their parents running to Derek for fear of reprisals. But their kids had driven everyone to distraction, so they decided to build a new extension to accommodate the other packs.

He can hear Stiles call out to Allison that ‘coffee’s up’ before he comes out with two mugs, placing one next to Derek on the seat and sitting down on the other side of him. Derek's skin prickles pleasantly where their arms are touching. While a lot of their life is about just being together, sharing the responsibility for the pack, and enjoying their time spent in each other’s company, Stiles can still make him hard with just one long, heated stare from across the room and he doesn’t think that will ever change. “How was work?”

Stiles shrugs. “Nothing exciting. We got the guy who did that burglary last month. Dad wants to know if you want to go fishing on Friday instead of Saturday. He’s taking Forrester’s shift on Saturday. Oh and Jordan got so frustrated with Forrester again he set his locker alight. Again. It was very funny. Well, at least until the sprinklers came on. How was your day, honey?”

Derek elbows him a little for the facetious endearment. “It was okay. Tabitha and I did some work on the East Wing.”

“Meaning you chased after her all day making sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”

“Pretty much. She helped with her plastic hammer.” He hesitates to broach what he really wants to discuss. That happens exceedingly rarely nowadays. He’s been anxious to talk to Stiles since he got the phone call this morning but now that Stiles is here he realizes how invested he is in his answer.

“I bet.”

They both sip on their coffee while Tabitha snuffles in her sleep. Stiles dips his finger in the creamy hood at the top of his mug – thanks to a state-of-the-art coffee maker he gave Derek for Christmas – and sucks it with a plop, deliberately not looking at Derek but grinning wildly. Derek chuckles. He loves these quiet moments in the hustle and bustle of their lively pack. He loves everything about his life right now, so why would he want to bring in any changes?

“So, what else did you do?” Stiles asks, taking another sip and looking at the trees. There’s an amused undertone in his voice.

Derek is always surprised that Stiles, without the aid of enhanced hearing or smell, is the only one who can tell his emotional state without fail. He’s getting better at reading Stiles but nowhere near as good as Stiles is at reading him. He should just tell him. “The cables arrived.” That’s _not_ what he was going to say _at all_. “So I can start on that, the wiring I mean.”

Stiles’s cheeks hollow with a suppressed grin. Then he sets his mug down on the floor and turns to face him. “Honey, you know I would normally be riveted to talk about wiring with you but you and I know that’s not what you want. _Sooo_ … what’s up?”

Derek's features turn into a smile without conscious thought as they so often do nowadays, especially around Stiles. God, he loves this guy. “Do you remember the Hobans from last year?”

“How could I forget? They brought their delightful children with them. All seven of them. Good times. What about them? Don’t tell me those kids have spray painted that alpha’s house again.”

“No. But they called this morning. One of Jack’s distant cousins died. She left a four months old baby and Jack’s apparently the closest relative. Now, he doesn’t want to put the kid into the system in case he turns out to be a werewolf, which apparently is a distinct possibility and he and Tara can’t feed another mouth. Well, they obviously could because they have another one on the way, but they feel this cousin would be too much.”

“They’re having _another_ baby? They couldn’t even control the ones they’ve got! Why would they do this? You know, we’re just lucky that Tara is human because otherwise we’d have a bunch of werewolf kids running around and they would do more than spray paint houses. Honestly, what are they thinking?”

“Didn’t you want a dozen kids?” Derek's amused but also wary now. That was quite a rant albeit not quite serious.

“Yeah, well, now we live in this big house with kids already and I’m sure Cora and Allison are eventually going to have some, too, so maybe a dozen is a little over the top. We’re just one large family anyway. But even if we did have a dozen, we would actually bring them up properly. It’s not the number of kids you have. It’s how you bring them up and with you as a father, we’d have nothing to worry about. You’d just growl at them and they’d do whatever you want.” He looks down at the sleeping child in Derek's arms. “Or not. Because you’re just a big softie.” He smiles at Derek. “So why’d they call you? Do they want your help with finding this kid a pack?”

Derek just looks at him and wishes he could kiss him right now. He’d never dreamt that he would ever be this content and happy. Why would he want to rock the boat?

As if he read his mind, Stiles leans forward and kisses him gently, before leaning back and looking into his eyes. “What?”

“The baby’s name is Henry.” It’s silly he knows but it seems like fate to him.

“Like your little brother,” Stiles says softly. There’s a pause. “Wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Probably.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m telling you that I would like to adopt this boy and I’m asking you if you feel the same way.”

Stiles looks into his eyes for long time. “To be honest, I wasn’t planning on bringing this up for another two or three years. We have a good life. We’ve come really far. You’re happy. I’m happy. And we’ve been doing all this stuff with Dr. Winter and some of that was really tough. So I thought we need to wait until we’re ready. I would love a child but I don’t _need_ one. But if you’re ready, then I’m ready.”

“Really?”

Stiles shrugs. “It sounds like a good solution all round, for us and the kid and the community at large.”

But it’s more than that. More than doing the right thing. More than wanting a family as well as a pack. It’s the knowledge that their lives have become settled enough to do this. That both of them have the same outlook on where they want their lives to go. That neither of them finds being settled boring. That they trust each other enough to take on this responsibility together. It’s knowing that Stiles _wants_ this. With _him._ He clears his throat. “I’ll call them tomorrow. Give you time to think about it.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna change my mind. But thinking things through is always a good idea.” Stiles kisses him again, gently so as not to jostle and wake Tabitha. Then he grins goofily. “We’re gonna be parents.”

Together they watch another car pull up in front of the house. Cal and Valeska get out, with Cal carrying their newborn son – conceived from an anonymous donor to avoid all complications – and Valeska bringing in some shopping. They both stop next to Stiles and Derek, smiling down at their sleeping daughter. “Everything okay?” Cal asks, rocking the baby a little and looking from Stiles to Derek and back. “You look weird.”

“I’m gonna be a daddy,” Stiles says, still somewhat stunned. “Oh, and your daughter’s a werewolf.”

Derek chortles at their bemused faces.

His mother once told him that trust is the quietest form of courage. At the time, he had no reason to think that trust requires any courage at all. Later he thought that he would never find that much courage again. When he looks back over the last few years, he now thinks that Stiles breaking up with him was for the best, however hard it was for both of them. Stiles got to experience life on his own, making new friends, trying new things, growing into the person he’s become without his past holding him back. Derek's glad that he had that, for his own sake as much a Stiles’s. He no longer fears that he’s stunting Stiles’s growth in any way. Stiles went out there, lived his life to the full and then decided to come home. To him. Derek can be certain now that this is where Stiles wants to be and Derek never wanted to be anywhere else. And somewhere along the line he’s found the courage to trust – in Stiles and in himself.

 

 

*** * * * ***

 

_ FROM THE NOTES OF DR. ABIGAIL WINTER _

General session notes:

Today I released Derek Hale from his therapy by mutual agreement. Altogether he has been to see me 119 times over the space of 26 months. He presented as a self-referral with feelings of debilitating guilt, extremely low self-esteem coupled with sleep disturbances and some obsessive behavior. He has worked diligently through his issues and reports a healthy sleeping pattern and a decreased need to run (his main outlet in times of stress, to levels that would be damaging in a human). He has also learned to talk about his thoughts and emotions after several years of hiding them from everyone around him.

About a third of his sessions were attended by his mate, Stiles Stilinski, who has also accompanied him to most of the sessions even when he was not taking part. Derek tells me that they like to spend the day away from their home to talk about the topics that come up in the sessions. They have developed a very open and healthy relationship in the last two years. Derek will always have various issues that will cause him feelings of pain and guilt, but they no longer color the image he has of his present self. He has accepted that he made mistakes but no longer sees them as inherent to his character, just as regrets and bad experiences. He has also learned to allow himself some sadness and grief. I credit his mate with being the main reason for Derek's success in that respect. Despite having issues of his own, Stiles is the most articulate, astute and tenacious person I have ever come across.

They both remain plagued by abandonment issues and a number of triggers that they alleviate with mutual reassurance but these issues are much reduced compared to the start of the sessions and will most likely always remain to some small extent. As they both understand this perfectly it is hoped and even probable that they can help each other through them if they stay together. I think it’s unlikely that either of them will break them up voluntarily. I have seen numerous bonded werewolves in the line of my work but theirs is the strongest I have seen despite Stiles remaining human.

Parallel to our sessions, Derek has grown into the most respected alpha in the community, much as his mother was. He remains a mediator and his pack has grown to five betas and three children as well as two human members. Derek and Stiles have recently adopted a three months old baby born to werewolf parents and are planning on at least two more in the future although there are no immediate plans for that. Derek and Stiles make excellent parents from what I could observe and tackle their responsibility with unabashed joy much like the joy they have shown in each other over the majority of the sessions.

The Hale pack is also sharing a territory with the McCall pack without any incidents. Never before have two packs managed to stay in such close proximity without fighting over the territory or control. It speaks to Derek's leadership qualities that he manages to keep the peace although I understand that his mate has a huge influence on the other alpha as well, being a life-long friend of his.

I have left Derek (and Stiles) with an open invitation to come and see me whenever he feels the need, be it for single sessions or longer therapy. I doubt very much that he will take me up on it. It is far more likely that he will discuss any future problems with his mate as they have learned and practiced over the last two years. I would not be as confident to release Derek were it not for Stiles. He is by far the biggest influence in Derek's life and an extremely positive one. I therefore do not expect to see Derek again and have confidence that this is because he will not need my council in future. I wish him (them) well.

 

_Fin._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you also for leaving feedback throughout. It kept me going. <3


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